#the stakes truly could not be lower

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Crowded Room — Ethan Edwards

Summary; In which Ethan never thought of you like that until he saw you show up to a party with a football player

Content Warning: 18+ Content, Smut, oral sex(f receiving), p in v sex, filth, slight degradation, hair pulling, choking, used of ‘sir’ ‘whore’ ‘slut’, mirror sex, unprotected sex(don’t be silly y’all), creampie (🫣), breeding kink, mentions of birth control, religious mentions(really quickly), JJ McCarthy getting caught in the crossfire, possessive JJ, cheating(? not really, reader and jj have gone on like 2 dates) loosely based on Lovin On Me By Jack Harlow

Pairing; Ethan Edwards & Fem Reader

You were tucked beneath JJ’s broad shoulder as you entered the fraternity house. You guys were immediately greeted with the smell of alcohol and marijuana. JJ’s grip on your hip tightened as he pulled you closer to his body. You two mingled with various athletes and a few of your sorority sisters as you made your way into the kitchen. You smiled softly at Ethan as you saw him pouring some concoction into a plastic cup as your voice came out softly, “Hey Eth.”

Ethan had been in your Ethics in sports class since freshman year and for some reason your professor always paired you two up for partner work. You would be lying in you said that you didn’t notice how attractive the hockey player was. He had the biggest and softest brown eyes you’d seen. He always had on that stupid hat and his beautiful dark hair sticking out. Anyone with eyes could see that Ethan Edwards was an attractive guy.

Ethan had never seen you as anything more than a friend. You were kind, funny and the first sorority girl he’d met that truly understood the concept of hockey. You had always been a friend to the brown haired hockey player. But you stood a mere five feet away from him, clad in a low cut cropped cheetah print top that accentuated your breasts perfectly, like the shirt was molded around your body. A fair amount of your stomach was out until it met the short leather skirt that had Ethan’s pants constricting his lower hips.

Ethan had never thought about it before but in that moment all he was thinking about was bending you over the counter and fucking the shit out of you, without a care in the world that JJ McCarthy seemed to be staking his claim on you in the kitchen. The way you said his name made him feel ridiculous for never thinking about you in this capacity. But surely you’d never thought of him that way right?

Ethan raised an eyebrow ever so slightly as he saw the grip JJ held on your hip. He could see the intensity of the hold by the skin visible between the hem of your top and the your skirt. He also noticed how JJ’s eyes were glued to him as you watched him intently. Ethan pressed the cup to his lips, “Hey Y/N, McCarthy. Didn’t know y’all were a thing.” You went to open your mouth to say that you weren’t, that tonight was your like 3rd date, when JJ spoke, “It’s new, right babe?” Your heart was beating up into your throat as you nodded, “Yep, good seeing you Eth. I have to use the ladies room.”

You looked up into JJ’s piercing blue eyes and unglued yourself from his side. You slipped out of the kitchen, feeling overwhelmed by JJ’s sudden influx of testosterone he’d felt the urge to show. You walked down the seemingly never ending hallway. You entered the bathroom and went to shut the door only for a hand to stop you. You looked up, taken aback as Ethan stood in the doorway, “Are you okay?” You felt your throat clam up, “‘M all good Eth.” Ethan shut and locked the door to the bathroom behind him as he leaned against it while you stood in front of the mirror, “Your a shitty liar Y/N. What’s going on in your pretty little head?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “I don’t even know. I’m not dating JJ by the way.” Ethan laughed heartily, “I gathered, you looked like you just shit your pants when he called you babe. Most girls don’t have that reaction.” You laughed, “Can I be honest for a minute?” Ethan grinned, “I’ve never known you to not be honest. What’s up?” You giggled nervously, partially tipsy from the bottle of Pink Whitney you had pregamed with at your sorority before leaving the house for this party.

“I’m kinda nervous being alone with you right now.” Ethan frowned, immediately feeling bad, initially believing he’d made you uncomfortable, “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. I can go.” You shook your head, “No it’s not you. Well not like that.” Ethan raised an eyebrow as he walked across the room and stopped next to you, “What’s wrong then?” You laughed slightly, “Being alone with you makes me nervous because your hot and I’m tipsy but I’m pretty sure this is how a handful of my wet dreams have started.”

Ethan laughed breathily, “So I make you nervous with my fleeting sex appeal? Good to know.” You rolled your eyes, “See this is why I should have kept my mouth shut. You never take anything seriously.” Ethan stood in front of you, keeping you from moving away from the counter. He placed a hand on your bare skin, “Trust me pretty, I’m taking this very seriously. Hop up on the counter for me.” You pressed your back against the mirror as Ethan dropped to his knees.

Your breath hitched as his warm breath traveled up your legs as he pressed soft wet kisses up your legs. By the time he reached your knees, you legs spread further giving Ethan easier access to your thighs and soaking core. An pornographic groan left Ethan’s mouth as his lips neared your burning core. He looked up at with his beautiful brown eyes lit up by desire, “Is this okay?” You groaned at his question, “God yes, please.” Ethan pushed your skirt up further as he pulled your panties down in one swift motion.

Your hand’s immediately flew to Ethan’s head, removing his hat and setting it near the sink as your fingers threaded through his hair as his tongue met the bundle of nerves that had a coil forming in your stomach. Ethan hummed as he pulled away, “So wet for me. Such a whore, letting me take you in a bathroom.” You felt yourself clench around the air as Ethan’s fingers slid inside of your dripping cunt. You felt a unrecognizable moan leave your lips as you clamped your legs around Ethan’s head as he began to lap up your juices as you came down from your high.

You breathed heavily as you leaned your head against the mirror and panted, “Holy shit. I can’t believe I just did that.” Ethan laughed, “Don’t worry it’s hot.” You rolled your eyes, “I cannot believe I did that. Oh god, I’m like a total whore.” Ethan pressed a kiss against your lips, “Sorry I just really wanted you to stop talking.” You groaned as you pulled him into a passionate kiss, your core clenching as you shamelessly grinded against him. Ethan pressed his hands on your hips, “Are you sure?” You reached down to unzip your skirt letting it fall to the ground as you pulled Ethan into you, “I’ve never been more sure of something.”

Ethan groaned as he pulled his shorts down and kicked them to the side. You hummed to yourself as Ethan rummaged through the drawers in search of a condom, only to come up empty handed. You groaned as you pulled him by his shirt to you, “I have an IUD, please just fuck me Eth. I need you inside me so badly.”

Ethan practically groaned at your words, “Such a desperate little slut for me. Just begging for me to fuck you raw in a random party bathroom. Didn’t peg you for a freak.” You groaned as you clenched your thighs together, “Damn it would you just fuck me already or do I need to have JJ come do that?” Ethan scoffed as he turned you to face the mirror as he adjusted himself behind you.

You felt a sharp breath leave your mouth as Ethan slid into you. Your chest tightening as he bottomed out inside you. Ethan’s hands found their way to your hips, fingers digging into your skin, harshly enough to leave bruises. A groan leaving his mouth, “You feel so good. Clenching around me, such a little slut.” You felt your eyes roll into the back of your head as Ethan’s hips began to move rhythmically. As sharp gasp left your lips as Ethan pulled at your hair, bringing your back pressed against his chest. A soft groan emitted from Ethan’s lips into your ear. You smirked pridefully, “Did I just hear Mr Ethan Edwards who has a reputation for never moaning during sex, moan?” Ethan rolled his eyes, “Shut up before I pull out.” You whines lightly at his words, “Please, alright fine sir. Just don’t stop.”

You felt Ethan tighten his grip on your hair, “Call me that again, please.” You grinned, learning Ethan’s soft spot in bed. A soft moan leaving your lips as your eyes screwed shut as you fell into the bathroom counter, “Oh god right there. Don’t stop please sir.” Ethan’s hand found it’s way around your throat, holding just tight enough to make you feel pressure but loose enough your air supply wasn’t compromised. You clenched around Ethan’s cock as he pounded up into your pussy.

You let out a pornographic moan, “Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop.” Ethan groaned as he breathed heavily, “I’m there too. I wanna cum inside you so bad.” You groaned at his words, previously believing it was impossible to become more wet, “Cum in me Eth, I need it. Need to feel you inside me.” Ethan groaned, “I could get your pregnant right now given the chance.” You let out another moan as you felt the coil building in your stomach burst as you clenched around his cock. Your orgasm triggering Ethan’s as he came following you.

You leaned against the counter, ass bare in the air as Ethan’s cum dropped down your thighs. You finally caught your breath and grinned as Ethan got a few square of paper towel and began to wipe his cum off of your legs and helped you back into your skirt and panties. You sighed as you two made your way out of the bathroom. A sinking feeling built in your stomach as it hit you, you’d have to explain to JJ where you’d gone off to for nearly an hour.

The sinking feeling dissipated when you found JJ sprawled across the couch with a redhead perched on his lap making out. You let out a sigh of relief as Ethan draped his arm on your shoulder, “Back to another crowded room we go.” You had expected him to enter the room and abandon you to go back to his teammates and brag over the easy lay he got, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and led you over to his friends. A small smile forming on your face as he sat down and pulled you into his lap as he watched some of his teammates play beer pong.

#hockey player x reader #fanfic #hockey #umich blurbs #umich imagine #umich hockey #umich boys #ethan edwards hockey #ethan edwards #ethan edwards smut #jj mccarthy

[poisonlove]

Finally | Jenna Ortega

Prompt: Uno Night

pairing: Jenna Ortega x reader

Author: I know, is short

My eyes meticulously observe the surrounding environment, the atmosphere becoming tense with each passing second.

We were at Hunter's trailer, enjoying a pleasant evening until things took a serious turn: playing Uno. Georgie proposed a brilliant idea, each of us would stake $50, and the winner would take it all. The excitement was palpable until Hunter started dealing the cards.

In the first round, Emma was the first to be eliminated, expressing her disappointment as she angrily left the table with the lost $50. In the next turn, Joy, Naomi, and later, a turmoil caused by Georgie accusing Jenna of cheating. Finally, Hunter was the last to leave the competition.

Only Jenna and I remained.

The brunette stared at me intently, her brown eyes brimming with challenge and excitement. A small smile played on her lips, her tongue licking the lower lip as a sign of concentration.

Change direction

Jenna throws the card on the table, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The tension rises, and with a lump in my throat, I watch expectantly for the brunette's next move. My eyes see her hand delicately picking the penultimate card, her fingers long and tapered, utterly perfect.

Blue 7

I see the card she drops and shift my gaze to Jenna, the brunette looking at me amused.

By now, I was accustomed to Jenna's gaze: no shame, no concern if she embarrassed you. Jenna looked at me as if she could understand my feelings and thoughts with a glance, even deciphering the cards I held.

"Damn," Georgie mutters, watching the game intently, his knee nervously moving up and down. "Uno," Jenna says, smiling widely, the dimple on her face deepening.

My eyes soften seeing the joy in Jenna's state: a broad smile, bright and hopeful eyes. I had been in love with Jenna for a while now, enjoying seeing her happy, laughing, looking at me amused. During these weeks of shooting for the second season of "Wednesday," we spent a lot of time together off set: drinking, dancing, or watching movies in my trailer after a stressful day.

My eyes look at the plate full of money: $400. I bite my lower lip nervously. I divert my attention from the money, looking at Jenna, who was watching me, waiting for my move, with Georgie nervously by my side. The girls were chatting on the sofas, immediately forgetting their defeat. Hunter watched the game with crossed arms.

I look at Jenna again, who was looking at me with a small smile on her lips.

Despite my strong feelings for Jenna, I was also very competitive, and the prize was truly tempting. Sorry, Jen. With eyes brimming with mischief, I play my ace in the hole: +4. Jenna opens her mouth in surprise and looks at me in shock, Georgie smiling at my move.

"Uno," I say, knowing perfectly well that Jenna couldn't respond to my move as she was picking up the four cards from the deck. Nonchalantly, I play my last card on the table. I won. I WON. I smile widely and stand up from the table, Georgie happy for my brilliant play. "You're great," Hunter says, smiling widely, giving me a high five.

Jenna huffs and sighs loudly through her nostrils due to the bad defeat.

"Is that mine?" I take the money and put it in the back pocket of my pants. "Did y/n win?" Emma asks with curiosity from the couch, looking at me with a smile. "Yes," Jenna interjects, frustrated. "Another match?" Hunter claps his hands and smiles excitedly, Georgie nodding quickly.

"I have to go, guys," the brunette murmurs tiredly, a strange tone in her voice. Jenna gets up from the chair and puts on her jacket, her eyes giving me a quick glance before looking away and smiling at the others. "Tomorrow morning, I have to record," she apologizes quickly before walking towards the exit. "Alright… see you tomorrow then," Hunter says as he picks up the cards, shuffling them. "I'm going too," I mumble quickly, following the brunette.

I wasn't sure if Jenna was angry with me for the defeat; I knew she was extremely competitive. Jenna Ortega was known to be a determined, elegant, professional, and serious person for her work, but many didn't know that behind her mask of a cold and solitary girl was a child who pouted and grumbled about entirely trivial things, like tonight.

"Jen," I say quickly, catching my breath from the sudden run.

Darkness surrounds us, and a beautiful starry sky highlights the full moon. Jenna looks at me with a raised eyebrow, the jacket around her body to shield herself from the cold. The faint light from the moon accentuates her eyes that glitter in a spectacular way. "Hey," Jenna genuinely smiles as soon as she sees me.

"You're not mad, are you?" I ask quickly with concern. I walk more and stop in front of the brunette. "I lost $50," she starts, raising an eyebrow, biting her lip nervously, "but it offends me that you think I could be angry about this," she concludes, looking at me through her long lashes.

"Oh," I open my mouth in surprise, blushing violently for my stupid thought. "I'm sorry, tomorrow I'll make it up with coffee," I say, laughing embarrassedly, and Jenna analyzes me with her gaze, her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

You can't understand the longing I'm feeling right now to kiss her.

"Alright…" she says timidly, releasing her lower lip, smiling, "but to make up, you'll have to do more," she sings with a playful tone, and I smile at her gesture, getting lost staring at her magnificence. Jenna continues to stare at me, her eyes shining in an incredible way.

"So… goodnight," I say with embarrassment, hands in the pockets of my hoodie trying to warm myself, clearing my throat. "Goodnight," Jenna smiles sincerely and walks down the road towards her trailer.

Jenna stops in her tracks, turning around. I look with confusion as she retraces her steps, hesitantly approaching me. "You worried about me… it was kind of nice," she says, smiling shyly, her sweet eyes fixed on me. The brunette leans timidly towards my face, placing her lips against my cheek.

My heart races wildly against my ribcage, and all I could think was that I ardently wished for Jenna to kiss me on the lips.

(…)

"You're really into Jenna," Georgie says, chuckling softly, looking at me with mischief.

"Shut up," I retort with flushed cheeks, my eyes scanning the set for the petite brunette. I release a sigh of relief. I had two coffee cups in my hands, one for me and the other for Jenna. At 7 in the morning, I had read Jenna's message that she was already on set and that we would see each other later. Now it's nine, and I heard from Emma that Jenna's morning recordings were over.

"When will you tell her?" Georgie asks, lowering his voice, his smile fading from his face. "Soon," I say, smiling widely, knowing perfectly well that I'm telling a lie. "Are you sure?" Georgie looks at me with concern, searching for the answer in my eyes. "Yes…?" I reply, questioning? I'm not entirely sure.

"If you don't try, you'll never know the answer… at worst, you aim for other girls," he says with enthusiasm, his eyes trying to make me smile at his statement.

"I know," I say weakly, silently thanking my friend.

My eyes unconsciously turn to the right, immediately finding Jenna. The brunette was wearing her Wednesday costume, her attention on the producer who was telling her how to improve some scenes.

Jenna was simply perfect, even in Wednesday's clothes. Her braids and seriousness made my heart beat faster.

I walk towards her, and Jenna, smiling at the producer, sees him quickly moving away. The brunette shifts her gaze to the approaching steps and smiles as soon as she sees me. I give a small smile and notice her tiredness in her eyes.

"Hi," Jenna smiles widely, her gaze landing on the cups I held between my hands. "For me?" The question sounds surprised and sweet at the same time, her eyes sparkling playfully. Jenna chews her lower lip, looking at me tenderly. "Yes," I smile shyly, offering the cup to Jenna.

The brunette takes the cup, our fingers brushing. An electric shock runs through my body, and I think Jenna felt it too, as she looked at my hand. "Thanks," Jenna smiles with her lips against the cup, taking a sip. She closes her eyes for the pleasant warmth.

Georgie's words echo in my mind, and nervousness runs through my body. I knew I was risking our friendship… but the worst thing she could say is no, right? Forget it all, we laugh it off, and we continue as friends. "Jen, I…" I start, unsure. Jenna looks at me through her long lashes, her eyes staring intensely. I swallow saliva and try to find courage. "Do you… want to…" I stammer, a lump in my throat.

Jenna continues to stare at me.

"See you tonight? Maybe… for dinner?" I ask with curiosity, fear flowing through my veins. I release a sigh of relief, feeling like I had lifted a weight off my chest. Jenna looks at me carefully. The brunette remains silent, her fingers gripping the cup, her eyes looking at me thoughtfully.

"A date?" She says with curiosity, her eyes analyzing my reaction. I blush and look at Jenna with embarrassment. "Yes? If you're uncomfortable, it's okay just as friends," I confess quickly, scared. Jenna smiles widely and looks at me with bright eyes, almost relieved.

"You took your time," she says, winking at me, and I look at her with confusion. "What?" I say spontaneously, and Jenna rolls her eyes at my comment. "I've literally been flirting with you for weeks," she says smiling, amused by her comment.

"Oh…" I affirm with embarrassment, feeling stupid.

"Okay, at 8 at your place?" Jenna taps her fingers on the cup and looks at me with excitement, hope in her eyes. I nod with confusion, and Jenna smiles pleased. She takes a sip of her coffee and places it on a table near the set.

The brunette approaches and looks at me smiling, her eyes bright and sweet. My heart beats quickly against my ribcage, and I watch as Jenna gets closer to me, her hands grabbing mine tightly, almost as if she's afraid I'll run away. I swallow saliva, our noses brushing, breaths mingling. Jenna gently presses her lips against mine, pressing for a passionate kiss.

I reciprocate enthusiastically.

Jenna releases our fingers and grabs my neck, her fingertips holding the grip to get closer to me. I sigh during the kiss and place my hands on her hips, more as a support since I was afraid of fainting in front of everyone. Everyone. We're literally kissing in front of the whole cast, regardless of comments or curious looks.

Jenna separates our lips with a loud smack.

"So, tonight?" She says, smiling widely, lips swollen from the kiss. Her cheeks were flushed, the wig now a bit disheveled from the intensity of the kiss.

"Yes…" I say breathlessly, smiling widely.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x fem!reader #wednesday addams x reader #miércoles addams #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #jenna marie ortega #uno cards #cute #lesbian kissing #kiss #girls kissing girls

[naivegh0ul]

Hngggg I'm losing my mind over sweaty Ghost. Filthy, smells absolutely vile but in the best way possible. Maybe this is just my scent kink talking, idk 🤷🏼‍♀️

(warnings: smut, gender neutral reader, scent kink, armpit licking, blowjobs, overall filth)

(word count: 1167)

His shirt is drenched, and his sweatpants are hanging low on his hips, revealing his happy trail, sticking against his skin from how sweaty he is.

He's sitting on a bench, his mask pulled up above his nose as he drinks from his water bottle, some dribbling down his chin from how fast and messily he's drinking it.

It has you thinking about how he'd look between your legs, his jaw and mouth slick with your juices and cocky smile on his face, showing off those pointy canines.

You wouldn't mind getting beard burn on your thighs from his stubble, rubbing against your thighs from how messy he's being.

Ghost catches you staring, clearly mid-daydream, and he sends you a wink, those deep brown eyes of his filled with lust. He stands up, pulling his mask back down before turning away and heading towards the showers.

Now that would be a tragedy, to wash away his intoxicating scent under the shitty pressure of the base showers, using some random bar of soap. No, you have to stop him before he commits such a heinous crime.

You follow him into the communal showers, and as he strips out of his clothes, his bare body being revealed piece by piece, you get an amazing show of just how strong Ghost is.

Ghost knows you're there, no doubt, he's trained in the art of you, so it's no surprise that when he steps into the shower cubicle, he waits a moment before turning the shower head on, giving you time to get naked and join him.

He knows you're there when he feels a pair of hands on his hips, your thumbs rubbing softly. "Thought you could wash away all that sweat without me knowing, Simon?" Ghost hears you say, your tone surprisingly dominant.

You flip Ghost around, pressing his back against the cold shower wall, and Ghost lifts his arm up for you, knowing what's about to happen. He lets out a groan as you immediately dive in, shoving your face into his armpit and sniffing, sniffing like a damn dog.

He feels your hot tongue poking against his already steaming skin, lapping up his sweat from his workout, your nose deep in the hair there. "Fuck, look at you, filthy bastard." Ghost chuckles teasingly, his other hand not currently in the air resting on your lower back, occasionally sliding down to cup your ass.

"Saw me and just couldn't resist, huh? A fuckin' dog is what you are." Ghost slaps your ass as he speaks, smirking at the way you moan into his underarm. He grunts in surprise when you turn your head to the side and bite his pec in retaliation to his words, your teeth marking his skin, staking your claim.

You huff annoyedly, turning back to the task at hand. You bury yourself in Ghost's armpit, lapping up his sweat and inhaling his dirty scent. After a while, you pull away, panting slightly. Ghost watches as you sink to your knees and lean forward, cupping Ghost's cock. Not to jerk him off, no, but to push it out of the way so you can nose at his musky balls, sucking one into your mouth.

"That's the spirit, just like that." Ghost praises, groaning quietly as you slather his balls in saliva. Ghost truly moans when you lean back and grasp his cock, your hand wrapped around the base, and you take the head of his cock into your mouth.

The way your lips stretch around Ghost's cock, jaw becoming slack to accommodate his size, it has Ghost grabbing your head and slowly pushing you further down his cock.

He feels you choke, feels you swallow as the tip of cock bumps the back of your throat, and you're not even halfway down yet. "Come on, sweetheart, you can take it. Relax that throat for me." Ghost says, his voice gruff yet gentle. "There we go, good job." He praises and watches you shudder, feels the vibrations as you moan around his cock.

His hips jerk at the sensation, thrusting his cock further down your throat by accident. Ghost moans at the feeling of your wet, warm throat struggling, tightening up around him as he's too big for you. "You can take it, love. I know you can." Ghost grunts.

You look up at him with wet eyes, unshed tears in the corners as proof of how much of a struggle it is for you to take Ghost's cock. That fact just gives Ghost an ego boost, makes him feel a burst of pride as he knows that you've taken him fully many times before.

It makes Ghost all the more proud of you as he slowly slides more of his cock into your mouth, your throat relaxing and letting him slip all of his cock inside.

"Fuck." Ghost groans, his head falling back against the tiled wall. "Gonna fuck your face now, love." He warns and pulls your head back slightly before pushing it down, grunting at the feeling. "Doing so well for me, sweetheart."

Ghost looks down at you, admiring the way your pretty lips stretch around his cock, the way your eyes flutter shut each time he pushes you down on his cock, throat contracting as you swallow. "Gorgeous." Ghost whispers as he gazes down at you, brown eyes filled with admiration.

You whine, eyes squeezing shut from embarrassment and Ghost chuckles softly. "Alright, I'll stop." He says teasingly, a rare smile on his face as he continues to slowly move your head up and down his shaft, that familiar coil curling in his gut with each pass.

He speeds you up slightly, bobbing your head while also thrusting, pushing you down at the same time his hips press against your face. "Mmm, 's like you were made for me." Ghost exhales heavily as he feels himself getting close to the edge. He pulls out slightly before grinding against your face, his cock forced deep down your throat, making you choke a little.

"Come on, 'm almost there. Gonna cum down this perfect throat." The shower room fills with the sound of shaky breaths and slick noises, your gagging loud and lewd. Ghost grunts on each thrust, his balls tightening as he teeters on the edge.

The feeling of your hands snaking up his thighs and resting on his hips is what does it for him. He comes with a moan, cock twitching in your mouth as he spills his thick seed down your throat, forcing you to swallow. Praises spew from his mouth, 'good job's and 'so good' echoing through the shower stall.

After a moment, Ghost pulls your head back, his cock now soft, although it jumps when Ghost looks down at you and sees you looking back up at him, lashes wet with tears and an eager smirk on your face. "Fuckin' insatiable, you are." Ghost chides with a laugh, leaning back against the wall as he catches his breath.

#i need to shove my face in this mans armpit and LICK #sorry for being depraved #gender neutral reader #ghost cod #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x gender neutral reader #simon riley x gender neutral reader #ghost smut #scent kink

[decayedgloria]

request!!

(wlw)

arlecchino fucking reader with her dick after getting jealous that reader was talking to childe too much. if you could make it size kink and possessive that would be nice!

ty!

use your words

ft. Arlecchino

A lil drabble for you :)

Tags: Afab!reader, wlw, strap fucking, dom!Arlecchino, size kink, slight degradation, possessive arlecchino and oblivious reader, nsfw under cut, mdni

-

In your defense, you had always been on the more extroverted side- it seemed as though you could talk your head off to just about any and everything, even your superiors, apparently.

You whined in desperation as Arlecchino dug her nails into your hips, no doubt leaving behind sharp indentations as she slowly moved her strap in and out of your gaping hole, never truly sating your desire to finally cum. With your arched back and plump ass right against her, Arlecchino grinned wickedly at the beautiful sight before her.

"That's right, love..." She whispered huskily, leaning over to place her lips right next to your ears, warm breath fanning over your face. "Only I can make you feel this good. Do you think that brat Tartaglia can do this to you?" You shook your head feebly, rolling your hips against hers in order to have some sort of relief, but to no avail. She only tsked in annoyance, bringing a hand against your ass for what seemed like the nth time that night.

"You were so eager to use your words with him. Why not use them now?" Suddenly, you were pulled into a fast and deep pace by Arlecchino, her hips snapping against yours in a feverish frenzy as you gasp and moan in surprise, though no actual words came out of your fucked out mouth- only praises for her.

"S'good...! You make m'feel so- ngh!" It was as if your mind had been overtaken by the exhilarating pleasure and pain all at once, with the only sensation you could properly feel being the way that her cock seemed to stretch your gummy walls even more than it usually did. You try to bury your head in the mattress below you, but Arlecchino's hand firmly held you back by the neck, hissing once more in your ear as she lets out a few grunts of her own.

"Don't even think about silencing yourself. I want to hear you scream on my cock. Let everyone know what a filthy slut you are for my cock." She growls, her sharp tone hungry for your voice as she slowly, but surely splits you open.

All you could do was sob and babble, tears streaming down your face as you try to form a coherent sentence for her, the knot in your lower abdomen growing tenser and tenser.

Earlier that day, Childe had asked you to keep him company at a tavern not far from the camp you were situated in. As his good friend, you decided to tag along; whether or not it was the alcohol that made your oblivious to his lingering touches or hungry gaze, Arlecchino cared not.

She only wished to punish you for even speaking to him.

Her teeth dragged across your body as she left all kinds of marks on your skin, like a grotesque artist painting their flesh canvas with blood. Much of your back was left with large, dark love bites and the occasional bite mark as she staked her claim over every inch of you- from your chest, to your stomach, to your thighs; all covered in her marks.

She relished in the way you writhed underneath her, pleasure clouding your mind and making you utterly helpless, taking her in your tight little hole like the good cockslut you were. Archons, your entire, sinful being would be the end of her.

"Go on, cum for me." Arlecchino said breathlessly before tilting your head and pulling you in for a hungry kiss. You moaned into her mouth as you finally reached your orgasm, arching your back even more and trembling slightly. You rode out your orgasm on her strap, almost collapsing from how worn out you were, finally becoming aware of just how much sweat and spit you accumulated throughout the night.

And judging by the way Arlecchino pulled out of your gaping hole, only to push you against the mattress on your back and slinging your legs over her shoulders, it was far from over.

Perhaps you should talk to Childe more often.

-

A/n: wooooooo i hope you liked this anon this was really fun to write, but it is my first time writing smut like this so i apologize if i was lacking lol

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #arlecchino smut #arlecchino x reader #genshin arlecchino #afab reader

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Are you requests open yet, right?

Can you make something with Fenrys, like, him and reader are mates, and they are trying to get a child for so long, and one day they discover that they are expecting.

(I really liked your writing, and very few people write about him, so I wanted to thank you for this 💕)

Had a blast writing this truly. Thank you for requesting and the kind words, I hope you'll enjoy it. 🤍✨

Little pup

At first, you didn't talk about it. You both were still young and for the most part, had wanted to explore the world together. Just you two. Try new things. See new places. Travel. Indulge in each other's company. And the mating frenzy hit you so hard that you didn't leave your house for over a month. And by then you were convinced that everyone passing by could smell the sex lingering all around.

And yet even in that month, it wasn't about getting pregnant. Fenrys was learning how to please you and you were doing the same. It was the desire to explore that drove you. To bring each other immense pleasure. Till the last breaking point. Till the moment all you could see was stars. Till furniture was breaking. But the thought of conceiving never crossed your mind.

But it's the first time your period is late and you're feeling so weird that Aelin had to drag you to the healer's level. It's the joyful smile on the woman's face when she says, "Oh you might as well be pregnant", that breaks this bubble of cold water over your head. "How exciting would that be? Babies are so rare and to have one ahh...", the healer beams as she ushers you to lay down. You reach for Aelin's hand almost instantly. The nerve suddenly so uneasy in your chest.

And then the healer's face drops and so does your heart. Sadness washes over you and it's like you had lost something you didn't even think you wanted five minutes ago. "You started your circle, darling", she says lowering your skirt down and you just want to crawl into yourself. "Ah, yes", you quickly move to get down the table. Glad your back is to the two women as you quickly wipe your tears. Suddenly feeling so frustrated. You feel Fenrys tugging on the bond yet that only makes your heart ache more so you push him out of your head quickly. Drowsing the bond in complete darkness.

Fenrys comes home way earlier than he should have been there. And you know it's because he would always drop anything for you. High stake leaders waiting for the meeting? Fuck them! His mate needs him so he's leaving and gods save the souls who try to stand in his way.

He knows by the silence that something had happened. Something that upset you. Ticked you over. Then Fenrys smells the blood. Gears turning before he realizes that your cycle had finally shown up but why the sense of sorrow then? This feeling of pain makes him rub his chest as he too tries to soothe the aching.

"My, love", Fenrys shrugs his cloak off carelessly, stepping closer to the bed. You're completely submerged by the furs all over your body. He makes a quick work of pushing them to the side until your wet cheeks come into sight and Fenry's heart drop even more. "Love", he breathes out in worry. But that only makes your tears well up more. A choked-out sob leaves your lips before you move to push away from your mate. That jabs Fenry's heart too.

"Love, if you don't tell me what's going on...", and then this shien of anger washes over you. Painting your cheeks in even more crimson shades. "Talk to you? Talk about what, huh?", you leap at him, fist coming in contact with Fenrys's strong chest.

But then you draw your hands back, looking at them with so much disgust. Fenrys steps in quickly taking your smaller palms into his. Your mind was too chaotic for him to read now. So he had to trust you to let him in on your own time. "What is going on...", you mutter, "You're overwhelmed and your body is full of hormones", even Fenrys frown at his own words but that's the truth in a way. The question still stands though. What caused all of this? "I thought I was...", you breathe through the sobs, "Thought we had...", and then it's full-on sobs, till your legs give out and Fenrys quickly wraps you up in his arms, rocking you from time to time.

There's no way to tell how long you've been crying by the time you're only sniffling. Eyes puffy and red, holding onto Fenrys for dear life. And he had run out of comforting words by then, opting for silence and love that he poured through the bond. You push away from him slightly. Knowing full well that you owe him an explanation. Because he too would have been a part of this if you had been pregnant. Your eyes well up with tears once more as you glance at him and Fenrys is ready to cradle you once more but you stop him. "I saw a healer this morning. She thought that I might...", you swallow the lump in your throat, shoulders sagging, "might be... pregnant". Fenrys's heart jumps up his throat. Suddenly he's almost hyper-aware of his surroundings. Threats. Smells. Sounds. But then nothing. And then just like before it all falls into place.

This. All of this was because you weren't. Because there wasn't a babe growing in your womb. No little Fenrys, or Y/N. And it's almost like another slap to his face because he only now realizes that you never really talked about it. Becoming parents. Growing your family. Being together and having one another was comforting enough. But seeing you like this. "I'm sorry...", you whisper and Fenrys draws his gaze back to you. "What for love? There's nothing to be sorry for", he brushes your loose hair away from your face.

"For not being pregnant", Fenrys frown at your words. And frowns so deep that his eyebrows nearly come together. "Now you take that back", his hands cup your face, "You take that back and never dare to apologize for something like this".

And you know that it comes from his heart because he loves you. Because no matter what you do he will always be there. "What if I can't?", you ask him, biting your lip, "Then we won't have any and that will be more than enough because we would have one another", he's quick to reassure you. And once more from the way his eyes are gleaming you know that he means it. "Come here", he mutters m, bringing you back into his arms, and wrapping it up in the comfort of his warmth. Drowning out the world around you.

All of this leads to a long conversation about children. One that you share late at night, both tangled between the sheets. Let the stars and the moon be the only witnesses of your wishes and dreams. And you both know that's so rare. And something that many couples don't even get close to. Fenrys knows how he and his brother Connall had come pretty late into their parent's lives. But then what a blessing it was to have two babies. Yet the time span was what scared him the most. Not because he was desperate. Don't get him wrong he wanted to see you pregnant. Know that it's his baby growing within you. But he could tell how fragile this topic made you. How you would shiver any time someone brought up the conversation of babies. How you would halt at the sight of younglings running around in the streets. How you forced a smile once Ellide got pregnant and you had brushed away your sad tears saying that it was only happy crying.

And it's only a handful of years later. Many disappointing visits to the healers later that you jolt up in the morning rushing to the bathroom. Fenrys is out of bed just as fast, darting after you and reaching to hold your hair out of your face as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. His hands rub comforting circles over your back. Your skin looks clammy and pale and it makes Fenrys sick to his stomach as well.

Because what if all the sorrows had finally eaten you from within in? What if he had missed something? Overlooked you not eating well, not sleeping enough. Your head drops to the side, and Fenrys quickly turns you over, reaching for the tap before flickering water over your face. If an illness claimed your life... if he would be left alone...it's a selfish thought but one that has been his number one fear ever since he saw you for the very first time.

"I'm fine", you groggily say and Fenrys only huffs, "Fine my ass, you're barely conscious". Those are harsher words than he wishes that thrown your way but he's so worried. So worried his own eyes are blurry. Then he moves up quickly, you tightly pressed to his chest. "Fen, I just need to lay down", but he doesn't listen as he throws the door open. Not caring that he's shirtless, or that you are only wearing one of his shirts. He rushes down the hallway, yet he's still mindful of not shaking you too much.

The healers haven't even finished their morning preparations when he storms in, eyes wild. The healer who had been tending to you for years now jumps up instantly. "I don't know what's happening", Fenrys admits as he lowers you onto the bed. The lady presses her palm onto your forehead before cradling your cheek. "Y/N, what's hurting?", she asks softly but you only shake your head. Her mouth falls into a tight frown and she orders a couple of other healers around, turning to Fenrys so he would tell her what happened.

"When was the last time you ate, girl?", she asks strictly, fingers running over your stomach. "Breakfast", you breathe out, "yesterday". Fenrys growls in frustration. He had returned home late last night, you had already been asleep and so he never even thought about the fact that he didn't ask anyone on his way up if you had been down to eat dinner. The healer shakes her head, "Silly, silly girl. Mirth, bring the lady some light breakfast and a tart", she says even though you turn to protest. "You're with child and this is all stunt you pulled here is because you didn't eat", every sound in the room dies down. Your eyes grow big and for a moment you're sure you just mistaken her words. Surely not... but it's the way Fenrys is looking at the healer with the same surprised eyes that makes you realize that he heard it too.

"Congratulations you two. A strong heartbeat", she carefully presses her palm to your shoulder. Knowing full well that once the information fully settled in Fenrys's brain anyone that would get near the slight swell in your lower stomach would be marked an enemy. The wolf closes the distance between you two. He doesn't yet trust his words so he just leans in pressing his forehead to yours. And now that it's been brought up you do smell slightly different. And the heartbeat. How did he miss the heartbeat? What kind of father will he be if he missed his child growing inside you?

"The best kind", you mutter, "the best kind of father", your hand cups his cheek, and the white wolf instantly nuzzles closer to you. He kisses the side of your head, brushing the tears from your cheeks. "Our baby", he mumbles, pressing his palm to your stomach, "Our little pup", you put your hand over his. And then Fenrys breaks into fits of giggles as he brings you closer into his arms. You too can't help the smile even if the dizziness still lingers. And you suddenly feel complete as if this was all that was missing. Now the picture would be complete. "A father, my beautiful mate will make me a father", he beams, brushing his lips against yours in a messy kiss, but the door swings open as the younger healer walks in with a trey. The laughter stops and Fenrys is snarling at the door, teeth out. Your hands push against his chest softly, "Darling, she means no harm", you reassure him yet his eyes don't leave the poor girl now shaking by the door. "Thought you seen him protective, girl? Welcome to the next stage", the older healer chuckles as she hands you the sweet bun.

#fenrys x reader #fenrys moonbeam x reader #fenrys moonbeam #fenrys moonbeam imagine #fenrys imagine #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #tog x reader #tog imagine #rowan whitethorn #lorcan lochan salvatorre #gavriel

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Something has been bugging me since the end of the Playful land event: How does the world not notice that these people are never seen again after going to this park. Even if its stated that only the positive magicam posts are the only things that leave the park, surely those guest's families/friends/employers/neighbors that didn't attend the park wouldn't eventually notice their absence. Moreover, how does no one still on land notice that the moving park leaves whilst everyone is still on it, and it never comes back to drop them off.

Makes me wonder if Twst has some sort of United Nations that would be alerted of this and set a worldwide lock down, so when the park needs to connect to a mainland again the country's military can apprehended them.

One of the biiig question marks of both Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land are all of the potential repercussions of Rollo/Fellow's schemes coming into fruition. The stakes of these two events are notably much higher than your typical TWST event, and that opens their stories up to further scrutiny. I'll talk about GloMasq first, then Playful Land, since I feel the former is also relevant to the points the asker mentioned.

This is going to be kind of a long post, so I'll slap everything below a cut! ^^

I don't know how frequently this is brought up, but I've heard some say it's unrealistic how Rollo was able to find the seeds for a supposedly wiped out plant and cultivate a ton in secret for his master plan. Now, I'm willing to suspend my disbelief in this instance because:

Spite can make a person do insane things (and what is Rollo is not spiteful as heck)

Rollo has lore which paints him as a diligent person who has a talent for gardening, so it feels in line for his character; he also seems to have an interest in history and is extremely neurotic so I could buy that he obsessively researched until he came across records or some trail to the flowers

The Bell of Salvation's ringing twice in a row is what triggers the flowers to bloom, and this has not happened prior to GloMasq because Rollo is the one who is consistently tending to the bell + the bell normally has a preset schedule; anyone that passes by the flowers would do so when they are inactive, and they are such an old phenomenon to begin with that no one in modern day would really recognize it or the danger the flowers pose

The narrative of GloMasq never calls attention to HOW Rollo was able to get the seeds, so it's not something that comes to mind unless you as the fan speculate about it; this doesn't come across as a plot hole, but it would be one if the narrative had pointed it out because then it would practically be obligated to fill the details in

The other major logical fallacy of GloMasq is that Rollo's machinations would have inevitably led to chaos once the flowers reached the rest of Twisted Wonderland, as some sections of society are reliant on magic. Now, I disagree with the notion that mages could band together and fight back against the flowers; we've seen from how the NRC students handle it that this would be a pretty useless effort since only the super powerful (which are few and far between) would be able to muster up enough magic to overpower the flowers. The majority of people are non-mages though, so the argument could be made that these people could help the mages by weeding or something similar. The question is, could this truly outpace the growth and attack of the flowers, especially when the average mage has far lower magical reserves than the average NRC student??? Remember how long it took the NRC kids (who are mostly healthy, youthful, and strong) to weed just the flowers in the waterways? My money's on the crimson flowers just overrunning the entire world long before they can be plucked out.

I actually think most societies would still be intact and able to operate without magic, seeing as 90% of the human population (which is implied to be the predominant race) are non-mages. Only very select industries and professions require magic to operate, and these are overrepresented to us (the players) since we are seeing the perspectives of mainly students who attend an elite magic school. These magical sectors, as well as societies which run primarily on everyday magic use (like Briar Valley) are the ones that would be the most in danger. This most likely explains why Malleus in particular was so panicked about Rollo's plans: if fully realized, his people would be in grave danger. This is not outright stated, but can be inferred. The main story also retroactively affirms Malleus's fears of being powerless. He was always told by his grandmother that the Draconias have great power so they can defend their people's smiles. What happens if that magic is stripped away? Then he is no longer able to protect his people nor his loved ones. In this way, GloMasq works well as both a standalone event as well as supplements TWST' grander story. It does not challenge what we already know but does support it.

Altogether, most details in GloMasq make sense and the event doesn't go out of its way to create more questions than answers. This... isn't the case for Playful Land. In fact, I would say that Playful Land does the opposite (in trying to explain plot holes, it creates a LOT more questions) and tries to hand wave everything away with one thing: money.

Firstly, Playful Land is kidnapping and trafficking innocent people (even if the park is said to be a more recent phenomena). Would their friends and family not notice they went missing and report this to the local authorities? My guess is yes, it's just not elaborated on in the event itself since the perspective through which the story is told is limited (Yuu doesn't know this world that well + the NRC kids, who are the people Yuu gets a lot of the lore from, are mostly privileged and don't need to worry about crimes of this magnitude). I believe the "people go missing, why aren't the police doing anything about it" can maybe allude to real world crimes that occur but aren't reported or resolved, which is very scary to think about. I don't know if this was the intention of the devs, but the comparison is certainly there and can be made. Or maybe it’s just that law enforcement hasn’t caught up yet?

It’s also odd to me that so many people were able to be taken by this huge, very showy moving park. I think that Fellow lures people out under the cover of night (which was the case with the NRC students, I will assume this is the case for the other victims too), but???? Even so, there are night owls and cities that don’t sleep. You mean to imply there were zero witnesses whatsoever??? Even though Playful Land is so big and bright, especially at night… Maybe this part plays into the idea that crimes may be reported but aren’t necessarily resolved…? That’s the only way I can rationalize it in my head.

Where the bulk of the issues start to come in is in alllllll the surrounding details. For example, a lot of the NRC students Fellow is kidnapping are connected to wealthy and influential families. How the heck are Fellow and his benefactors going to keep Vil’s fans, the Kingscholars, the Shrouds, the Asims, the hypothetical Leech mob family, and maybe even Maleficia herself and Malleus, from coming after their asses???? AND FELLOW SPECIFICALLY FUCKED UP BY ENCOURAGING THEM TO “INVITE THEIR FRIENDS” FROM SCHOOL… because guess who will be spilling the beans to the headmaster about students going missing the day after inviting everyone to go to this supposedly “free” amusement park?? All the students Fellow told them to blab to just so he could catch more of them 😭 Then from there it would definitely escalate and governments might get involved since Leona is a prince and Kalim has royal relatives. I could see Playful Land having to go on the run (as in, have supplies delivered to them rather then docking for them, knowing that police or military would be there to arrest them at ports). But they can’t do that forever, especially since not being able to dock effectively prevents them from picking up new prey.

With the combined powers of the NRC victims’ families, they would surely be able to challenge the people behind Playful Land, no?? Unless you mean to tell me these mysterious people somehow have more power than literal royalty AND the Asims combined??? And we’ve never heard of them until just now??? Okay, you’re starting to lose me here because this is adding on top of the lore we already have but in a way that comes off as difficult to believe since the amount of wealth and power some of the NRC kids have is already ridiculous.

Playful Land is also supposedly constructed by very powerful mages which makes me wonder why they got together to create such a thing???? Did they literally all get bribed with enough money to agree to this project? Were they deceived about the true nature of it?? Are the other 4 of the top 5 strongest mages involved in any way??? How was this not publicized that it was a project that very strong mages were working on given how few mages there actually are and how much Playful Land is talked about in online rumors??

Speaking of online rumors, that’s another thing. How are the people behind Playful Land able to monitor any and all talk about their park to this degree?? This is the internet we’re talking about here, surely stuff will fall through the cracks or come to light eventually. Someone would leak insider info, someone would say something.

The easy explanation given for everything is that there are very rich and very powerful people running these operations. They would be able to silence people who speak out against them or bribe the corrupt into complying or looking the other way. Maybe that’s just a sad truth I don’t want to acknowledge (because this stuff for sure happens irl 😞) but that all sounds WAY too convenient for fiction (where the devs have total control over the circumstances) especially when we’re given so little lore for who these benefactors actually are.

There’s still way too many questions and even turning on suspension of disbelief couldn’t stop those questions from arising in my head. At best, I think we could give the devs the benefit of the doubt and say this was intentional to keep up the idea of a “shadowy” underbelly to Twisted Wonderland society. Even so, that doesn’t account for every little thing and the event’s attempts to explain it all only makes more things to explain.

I tried to explain my perspective as best I can here! However, I admit that there may be bias in my judgment because I’ve made it no secret that GloMasq is my favorite TWST story event. Please let me know if you have any other issues with GloMasq’s narrative or if you have explanations for the issues I pointed out for Playful Land; I would love to hear your takes too ^^

#twst #twisted wonderland #Rollo Flamme #Fellow Honest #Gidel #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #question

[moonlightazriel]

Chapter 13: The past cannot be forgotten /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Y/N finally opens up to Azriel about Ruvyn. They finallly go to Koschei's home.

Word Count: 1,6K

Warnings: Just the usual angst.

Notes: My dumb ass accidentally posted this before i even posted the first chapters ughhhh

Main Masterlist

Worlds Apart Masterlist

Azriel sat in bed, watching her squirming and groaning, her eyebrows furrowed and sweat coating her forehead. He reached to wake her up when she jumped out of her slumber, sitting in bed with a panicked expression, hands grasping for his arm, eyes frantically scanning him for any injuries. 

“They took you, I saw Ruvyn kill you.” She sobbed, tears streaming down her pretty face. He pulled her to his lap, allowing her to cry on the crook of his neck. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” He rubbed her hair, noticing how this worked to calm her down faster. As she stopped her sobs and looked at him again with her red puffy eyes, he pulled her in for a kiss, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing her lips with his own. “Whenever you need to talk to me, I'm here for you.” He said after they parted the kiss.

“His name was Ruvyn.” She spoke, her voice hoarse from both crying and sleep. He watched her intensely. “Before our people became one, Ironteeths hunted Crochans down, to kill them for what their ancestors did to us. I met him in one of my huntings, he was different from the humans I met, he was charming, and something in me came back to life when I saw him for the first time.”

Her face dropped to an even sadder expression, like remembering those things were too painful, and they were, but she needed to let them go, she couldn’t keep allowing that Ruvyn’s ghost haunted her and sucked the life and joy out of her anymore.

“I fell in love with him and I kept coming back to him. He showed me things that I never thought I would have the chance of experiencing. He taught me how to dance, how to live, and how to love.” She rubbed her eyes. “The night I finally got the courage to be intimate with him was like a dream come true. I told him I loved him that night and he looked me in the eyes, like I truly meant something to him and told me he loved me too. When I woke up he had turned me in, ready to burn me at a stake. He told me so many awful things that I still carry with me to this day, he said I was going to die alone and no one would ever love a monster like me.”

The pain in her eyes was too much for Azriel to handle. He understood perfectly how hard it was hearing such harsh words directed at him, but it was totally different coming from someone she trusted with her heart. 

“I was able to free myself, the people who snickered at me started to scream and run away, i was never a monster Az.” She promised. “But that day I turned myself into what Ruvyn believed I was, I became the monster he made me. I killed the man I loved with my bare hands, I ripped his heart out for what he did to mine. I’m not proud of this but I can't erase what I did.”

“And you had every reason to do what you did, I can't imagine a betrayal like this.” She looked at him with worried eyes.

“You don’t think I'm a monster?” Her lower lip started to quiver like she was going to cry again.

“I could never think that of you.” He reassured her, pulling her in for another kiss. “I love you.” 

And despite not being able to tell him that she loved him too, she opened her heart to that feeling, something told her that this time would be different and she was willing to believe. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

After that morning, they got ready to talk to the rest of the house about their conclusions, finding the two males by the dining room having breakfast, Vassa was nowhere to be seen. Azriel and Y/N greeted them, sitting down to eat. 

“Did you two sleep well?” Lucien asked, always the kind host.

“We did, thank you Lu.” Y/N said. “But I guess the news we have for you isn't that good.” She sipped on her coffee. “Koschei is a Valg king.”

Her and Azriel shared all the information they gathered last night, including the one about Nesta, who according to the letter Azriel got late in the night, was being kept hidden at the cabin much to her dismay. Y/N couldn’t imagine what they had to do to keep Nesta locked against her will, and she wanted to end this soon so her friend would be free again. 

“So we’re basically fucked?” Jurian asked, biting a piece of toast with a smirk adorning his face.

“Precisely.” She motioned to Lucien. “Although our fire boy over there has a chance of killing him.”

“Me?” Lucien choked.

“Fire can kill a Valg, that’s how Aelin Galathynius killed Maeve, a Valg Queen.” She said it like it was obvious. 

“And you want me to Aelin my way into killing Koschei?” Y/N laughed.

“Yeah, she burned Maeve from inside out.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” He protested.

“Then i suggest you find out very quickly cuz we need to kill him as soon as possible.” She shrugged. “But no pressure.”

“Yeah, no pressure.” Lucien mumbled underneath his breath, taking another sip of his hot coffee. 

“So who’s ready to have a tour of Koschei’s lair?” Jurian asked, excitedly getting up and clapping his hands, the groans he received as an answer just made him smile wider.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The cabin was made from dark wood, ageing poorly with time, the roof was covered in pine needles and the yard really needed a trim to look decent, what connected the land with the island that held the big cabin was a very old bridge, and a dark lake surrounded the area, like the Mother had forgotten about that place too. 

“This smells so awful.” Azriel said, scrunching his nose in clear disgust, the smell was putrid, like death. Exactly like the Valg smelled. 

“Did it always have this smell?” She asked the males behind her. 

“Gets worse every day.” Lucien replied.

“Especially when he releases those things.” Jurian added, making her whip her head back to look at him.

“What things?” Jurian started to describe the monsters he saw coming out, a wide variety of horrors with long claws, sharp teeth and bloodthirst.

“We kill some, but others disappear. Maybe they get killed in the courts, we don't know what they want.” Lucien explained and she nodded. 

“Fuck.” She cursed. “If he's indeed after Nesta’s power, this is his way to guarantee an army before he can open that damned gate.”

“How are you so sure he has a key?” Jurian inquired, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“He got here somehow, he has the original key he had before he was bound to that lake. He has to.” It only made sense that he still had the key, if he was trying so hard to free himself. 

“She has a point.” Lucien waved his hands and Jurian rolled his eyes, mouthing the words back to him in a mockery tone, prompting the male to crack a smile.

“Shhhh, someone is coming.” Azriel shut the conversation down and everyone turned to see.

It was like time had come to a stop, cold spread across her body, freezing her in place as she took the male in. Short golden-blonde hair, ivory skin, broad shoulders and a sculpted body showing through the thin tunic he wore. Beautiful, lethally beautiful like Erawan was. He took a look around, and shining against the sun, his gold eyes, just like Manon’s and just like his younger brother. The eyes of a king.

He stretched his muscles and turned his head towards the sun, letting it warm his skin. A lazy smile appeared on his face and he turned his head towards them, with his eyes closed and a very deep voice, he spoke. 

“I don't like being watched.” He opened one of his eyes, looking directly into hers. 

She motioned for the males to keep quiet and stay in their place, kicking Azriel’s hands away when he tried to grab her ankle. She got up, climbing the hill they were hiding and started to walk in silence, stopping over the edge of the bridge. The male turned to her with a curious gaze. 

“You're not from here, you smell different.” He smiled sweetly at her. 

“I changed my soap yesterday, thanks for noticing.” She snickered and he openly laughed. 

“What a delight having someone so fun around.” He extended a hand to her, inviting her in, but she stayed rooted in place. “Aren't you here to see me?” 

“Yes.”

“Then come here, darling.” Azriel cursed as his shadows informed him that she started to cross the bridge, towards Koschei’ open hand. “What can I do for you?” His voice resonated through the trees.

“I've heard you can take all the pain away.” She replied, lies spilling from her plump lips. 

“You came to the right place, my sweet creature.” His hands wrapped around hers, and she almost flinched with how cold it was against her warm, sweaty and shaking hand. 

He pulled her hand towards his lips, kissing it with his eyes still locked with hers. He smiled again, pulling her closer to him, towards the open door of the cabin, exactly like she wanted.

“Allow me to properly introduce myself.” He bowed his head a little. “Despite the people of this land calling me Koschei, my name is Mantyx.”

She almost froze with the name, swallowing past the lump in her throat and forcing her legs to walk inside the cabin. Azriel watched in horror as she disappeared inside, the door closing itself after them, locking her inside with him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

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#azriel #shadowsinger #azriel x reader #moonlightazriel #sarahjmaas #azriel shadowsinger #night court #velaris #azriel x y/n #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #worlds apart fic

[gav-san]

A Vintage Bouquet | 1/5 | Mihawk x reader

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk / Fem Reader

Length: 1/5 Chapters

Summary: Trapped in a monastery and threatened with an impending marriage, you'll strike any deal with a Pirate to escape what your father has in store for you.

Next

“What a treat, for a great warlord of the sea to come to our island.”

Mihawk didn’t remove his feet from the table, barely even bothering to blink at the approach of the voice. Its owner, Rear-Admiral Jacobson, was the insipid leader of the Marine Outpost here, a dull man fitting of the dull backwater.

“It’s truly an honor to host you.” The marine said, taking out a chair to join him, much to his irritation.

“Charmed,” Mihawk replied dryly, barely acknowledging the large man in the marine uniform. “I’m sure.”

The rear admiral laughed, taking a seat on the bar left of the famed swordsman. He didn’t sit too close, clearly aware he was unwelcome, but not scared off 

“I don’t mean to overstep, Hawk Eyes, but I’m shocked to see you here. The West Blue has been very quiet on the pirate front, and less so on any budding warriors. Illa de Palma is paradise for us here.”

Mihawk tilted his head.

He could outright refuse to chat with Jacobson, but it would likely be detrimental. Mihawk was no fan of bright sunlight and the thick humidity on Palma but he did find their wine to be pasable. Insulting the owner of the best vineyard on the island wasn’t going to get him his shipment, or any future ones on any island, knowing the way the wine-masters held grudges.

With a sigh, knowing he wasn’t getting off without revealing a little info, he acquiesced. 

“It isn’t nearly that complicated. I was headed this way and was followed. Since there or no decent vineyards between here and the Grand Line, I thought I may find something interesting.” The swordsman said, raising a glass of dark liquid, and swishing it. “I have yet to decide if it was worth the diversion.”

The rear-admiral Jacobson perked a brow.

“I’d say so, but since it’s my wine, I have a stake in your opinion.”

Mihawk took a measured look, before taking a short drink of the wine, before looking back.

“It’s not terrible.”

The Rear Admiral laughed.

“That’s high praise. I’m not sure anything could please your stiff palette, other than the best.”

Mihawk took another sip, letting the liquid run across his tongue.

“It’ll do, I suppose.” He said, putting it down. “It doesn’t seem like your little island is very interesting otherwise.” The rear admiral Jacobson smiled at the swordsman.

“Interesting? Perhaps not for a man of your caliber, but for me, it’s been divine. We export the best wine and women!”

Mihawk tilted his chin.

“The monastery girls,” Jacobson added, with a wink. “The nobles send their daughters here to learn how to be good wives. Makes the entire island a pretty penny, and we get to see pretty women.”

“How quaint,” Mihawk responded with little care.

Jacobson leaned in as if he expected a juicy bit of gossip, and Mihawk raised his glass again.

“Oh, don’t be so closed-mouth! I know you came in with that fancy noble who has his eyes on our girls! Tell me if it’s true that he wants to take our sweet, lovely island beauty. I speak, of course, of Ms. Gabriella!”

Jacobson named a woman's first name that Mihawk prompted recognized and ignored. The swordsman gave a sound that was similar to a snort, though he was too elegant to do so outright. He was tempted to immediately leave hearing that name again. After having to listen to that incessant noble who decided to follow him, he could live a very long life and not have to hear it again.

“This conversation turns tedious,” Mihawk replied, “Such things hold little interest for me.”

“Always the swordsman, dedicated to your craft.” The rear-admiral joked, much to Mihawk's great annoyance at the familiarity. “For a former pirate, you have always been quite dedicated, much like those nobles.” 

“I’m a pirate, not a savage.” The pirate scoffed, lowering the wine onto the bar with a clink. He rose, moving to leave before he had to hear any more nonsense. “The wine is astringent. Hardly worth a visit.”

The Rear Admiral gaffed, scooting his chair so the swordsman could pass.

“You should pass by the monastery. They had the best wine on the island.” Jacobson said, raising the glass to take a long sniff. “They always purchase our best for their private sacrament.”

Mihawk raised a hand, not bothering to give a reply.

He was not much inclined to take the word of someone who touted such fine taste and failed to live up to the expectations, but he had run low and disliked the idea of setting off without a fresh crate. 

He learned against a pier, next to his boat, listening in to the local fishermen passing, morning still fresh. Villagers only give him half a glance and Marines kept a wide distance, more familiar with his old Wanted Poster. 

He had learned early in life that the best way to discover the best wine was to listen to the townspeople. And though he wasn’t much inclined to speak, he had found his fair share of bounties simply being near. 

But he did raise a brow at the topic of today’s rumor mill. 

It was the name.

The name of the girl, at the monastery. Ms. Something Gabriella. It seemed that this girl was of some importance in the town, her name was like a buzzing fly in his ear.

Gabriella Gabriella Gabriella

What was that first name?

Ah yes.

Ms (name) Gabriella.

After putting the two together he pressed his lips together. 

The last name alone was popular enough that he hadn’t thought much when people shouted praises about the girl. However, the first name was unique enough that it did cause a memory of something to resurface.

Isabella Gabriella.

An old pirate captain, who enjoyed daggers. He wondered if there was any relation between the girl and the pirate swordswoman he had known long ago, who had been a fearsome foe indeed when he was a young man.

She often bragged about her precious little daughter, who had the same name as this monastery girl.

He glanced at the Monastery, turning. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t be that big of a detour. 

Perhaps even bearable if there was good wine.

-XXX-

The white sheets fluttered in the cool sea breeze that the evening on the coast had brought, the crisp breeze ridding it of the last wrinkles and folds. Careful fingers folded the fabric into a sharp square, placing it in the large wicker basket next to the laundry before you turned to the last row of hanging sheets.

You couldn’t help stop your eyes from wandering past the tall stone wall of the Nunnery Annex and gazing down the hill where the shimmering white of Ciudad Blanca lay, flaunting its beauty to all who came across the Isla de Palma.

You could appreciate the artistry that had gone into the white facade of the rich town, as you had once been part of something.

You blinked, hearing your name.

Ms. Gabriella.

Calls of it came from those passing, able to see through the cutouts in the wall, making you feel akin to a goldfish in a too-small bowl. 

The monastery walls had been built less for the comfort of those inhabiting it but as a symbol of its wealthy patrons. It was a very popular destination on Isla Palma, and though you preferred cloistering herself away in the depths of the monastery, you had watched those visitors with a melancholy stirring in your heart. 

Adventurous, free, people.

Located in the West Blue, the beautiful city saw more than its fair share of seafaring wanderers, an almost alarming toss-up of Marines and merchants. You heard more than you saw, as enough seemed to fear the Gods that they would visit, climbing the stairs to reach the tall white building.

And, inevitably, some of those travelers were almost certainly pirates masquerading as sailors. 

And despite your hair being tightly pulled back into a strict bun, secured by coif and wimple, under the black veil, it did little to hide your lovely face and sparkling eyes, as bright as the lights dancing off the warm ocean. 

And others noticed, as well.

When you were on rotation for laundry or any other tasks outside the monastery walls you would be cat-called, harassed, or confronted by angry women.

you tended, hiding yourself behind the last youets, folding as quickly as you could.

You weren’t surprised at the rough-looking travelers who called as you trod behind the Abbess, as you greatly suspected they were pirates. But the number of Marines who would leer at you and the other sisters was downright horrible.

You whipped another sheet off the laundry and winced when you heard a rip.

Damn.

Mother Superior would be greatly displeased with her, as she already thought you taking the food and space that so many other young females would be grateful for. 

A good marriage, the Mother Superior had often told you, was something a face like yours should aspire to. It was one of the Abbotess’s many ways of letting you know that time was ticking for her, and if you could not find a proper husband, you’d be found one.

Choose, you foolish girl, choose! 

Countless men had been offered to her, but the photos and love letters blurred before your eyes as panic caused your stomach to heave.

Your entire body reacted to the notion of marriage, shoulders squaring and knees locking as you attempted not to drop to your knees.

You felt a drop of sweat run down your shoulder at the thought of accepting one of the many proposals coming through the Monastery letterbox. Many wealthy men came to the island, but few were good. Less who had all their teeth, and had the resources to afford a bride dowry for her.

And those acceptable were almost exactly like father.

Your father, a name not earned but given regardless, was a noble living in the holy city of Mary Genoese, bathing in wealth and privilege. you hadn’t seen him in years. He saw you more as a prize swan than flesh and blood, and the only reason you heard from him was when he reminded you of your duty to marry, mainly through very unpleasant Den Den Mushi calls via snail.

And his latest he hasn’t held back, letting you know that whoever you accepted, expected to receive a generous offering for her. 

The Mother Superior had a vice-like grip on your arm, keeping you in check. 

Of course, you agreed.

A record number of Berry would go on to continue running the monastery with your success. That was the whole reason girls like you were boarded and raised by nuns.

But your worth was ticking down if you passed into your thirties without choosing. 

The town bell rang, counting down your hours.

You wanted to pull the entire line of laundry down, angry at everything. Your life hadn’t started as a plot to turn into a breeding cow! 

Your mother had been an adventurous, independently wealthy captain before wedding father. He had promised her a similar lifestyle after getting hitched, just adding his fine title as a nobleman with a residence in the Holy City. 

And so you were a child who had worn only the finest dresses, even when running through the swelling ocean waves, hair perfectly coiffed even as you lay to sleep.

Maids regularly pampered her, and the best tutors engaged her mind. You voraciously read books and loved your father for generously giving you so many. Many afternoons had been spent aboard your mother's ship, set up in a hammock reading romance and eating the finest sweets, and even tasting the fine wine they sailed around delivering.

Your mother's crew was mostly retired marines and had generously taught you all about the wine trade as if you were their child. Your mother taught you more than a few tricks with her daggers, though you preferred the feel of a sword.

Your mother had made you hide this when you visited your father. He had, over time become more and more vocal about his dislike of sea life, how women didn’t suit it, especially concerning you in particular.

You had, deep down, had a feeling that something had gone sour in him.

It had probably not helped that over time, your mother had taken on the lion's share of raising you, and your noble father had mostly enjoyed staying at home, raking in his wife's wealth and attention with far too much free time on his hands. They spent more time away than together, and soon, it was clear divorce would be imminent.

On your sixteenth birthday, your mother, her ship, and the entire crew were shot down by pirates and murdered. 

You had miraculously been on a rare vacation with your father. He had praised the heavens for such good fortune but you deeply grieved, unable to find any value in your life compared to your mothers.

You weren’t even half the woman she was, in any respect, and now she was gone, you saw just how strong she had been to counter a man like your father.

Father wasted no time introducing the newest addition to his collection. And you meant that as a plural since it wasn’t a day after your mother’s passing that you discovered your mother was just one of four wives that your father secretly had. He went around town, touting how you were to be sold off in a similar manner.

You were determined to cut ties, your anger roused at such a callous insult, but before you could touch a penny of your inheritance he locked it away, then he locked you away, per the flexible arm of his noble title. 

Your entire future shifted, and any chance at a seafaring life was gone. And it took less than a day for that to be made clear.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

You paused, hands loosening before you tore another bed sheet, focusing to take another deep breath. 

Taking out your anger here would not give you back what you had lost. You would only receive toilet cleaning duties for the next month if you didn’t control yourself.

But every day, anger cinched your middle tighter, and inevitably, those invisible stays would break, or simply cut you in two. 

Breathe, you reminded herself.

“Ms Gabriella, my beloved!!” Another voice called behind your back, and you scrunched your brows together. It was close. A cold shiver danced down your spine. 

Heffery Jones.

“Lovely Sweet thing!”

You recognized that drunk voice and your brows furrowed. What a terrible day, you decided. While most of your well-wishers managed to control themselves and not climb the nunnery, this voice was coming too close to her.

You flinched, turning at the figure who was half dangling over the brick, waving too enthusiastically your way.

One of the somewhat poor townsmen, a very young fellow with brown hair and yellowing teeth grinned at your lost expression.

And very drunk. 

“My love, why haven’t you responded to my proposal?” He cried out to you, still struggling on the balustrade. 

“Go home Heffery, your wife works too hard for you to waste it on drinks.” you retorted, your tone flat. You didn’t have the time to state all of your reasons, but that was a start.

Not that it worked.

“Darling, let’s run away and go sail the sea together! My wife means nothing!” He cried, wiggling to try and get over the sharp spikes.

You actually liked Mary Jones and feel sorry you had married Heffery. But it was arranged, like most marriages in town. You were sure the only reason Mary Jones hadn’t run off was her children, who all looked suspiciously like your neighbor, rather than her husband. 

You readied herself, grabbing the laundry basket, in case you needed to throw it at him.

“Heffery Jones, don’t you dare!” The voice of the Mother Superior rang out, startling both of them.

You, for once, were flooded with relief as you heard her call out from one of the many windows. Even if it meant a lecture later, of why you had been the problem. For now, Heffery could take the tongue-lashing of the older woman, for however long it took him to realize he needed to run.

The Abbot didn’t hold much power in the monastery, but he had a den den mushi phone and paid off the local marines for problems like this.  

But Heffery Jones wasn’t known for his intelligence or listening ability, and he attempted to jump over the brick. Even the solid shoe you threw aimed at his face didn’t change his mind.

He still attempted to jump.

And this was only an attempt as he inadvertently sacrificed his fancy waistcoat on a lantern pedestal and flung himself back the other way, into the road. Your shoe met with a satisfying thump and fell to the ground on the other side.

You heard the alarm of the local church regulars and the dismay of drunk sailor men who had followed Heffery from his bar to egg him on, as well as the distant thuds of Heffery rolling down the hill, probably straight back into the bar he had come from.

So you waved goodbye, cheekily.

Mother Superior burst through the side door, just as you finished folding the laundry, hiding ripped sheet at the bottom of the pile.

“That disgusting man! And you, you! Must you flaunt yourself? If you wish to be seen, hurry up and choose a respectable suitor!” 

you knew better than to argue, simply apologizing. Thankfully you weren’t forced to grovel for long, as the Abbot flew through the door, bouncing back from the Mother Superior's large girth.

“He is coming!” He cried, falling into a tumble of robes.

“Great Heavens!” The nun said in tandem, as Abbot cried out his news. “I already chased the Jones boy off!”

A nun followed the father, picking him up from the ground, and the old man wasted no time delivering his news to both of them.

“Not the boy, Mother!” He said with a flourish, slipping around her. 

The Abbot grabbed your hands, gleefully. 

“Your fiancé! He has been chosen! And he’ll be accompanied by a Warlord of the sea!” your mouth fell open, but you stopped herself by biting her lip. 

“Pardon?” you croaked.

Mother Superior cackled in thanksgiving, holding up her hands in praise to the sky. 

“He can afford a Warlord?!? He’s clearly rich and powerful enough to pay for an entire new section of the building!” Mother Superior cried out, picking up the Abbot and spinning him.

The man cried out in alarm, but you felt like you had been the one being spun. you knew the time had been ticking down, but your father had promised your mother, in a written will, that you would be able to choose your husband!

You stepped back, breath getting heavy. The Abbot and the Mother Superior danced around one another, leaving you the chance to dash away, trying your best not to hyperventilate. You flung yourself around the corner fleeing the wide courtyard to the smaller citrus grove. 

Others disliked the mushy ground, laden with rotting oranges, and so you often found respite there.

There on the bench, you raised your lone barefoot to look at the consequences of a very impulsive throw. Not that it hadn’t been deserved, but now you’d have to go beg the gate guard to fetch it for you. 

Or…

You glanced at the old, bolted side gate in the wall behind the last tree. 

If you dare, you could unlock it, dart out, and get it herself. You questioned if it was worth potentially being discovered, but if you were quick, and only to avoid unnecessary drama, it very well might be. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you sighed, agreeing it was certainly a bad day.

This inner debate was cut short when you heard a thud, near the gate. 

You jumped up, startled, head snapping over.

A shiver ran down your spine at what you had found.

A shoe.

Your shoe.

There, in a space bare of any fallen oranges, lay your shoe.

You dash to the gate, from where the shoe almost certainly came, thrusting your head out of the small space on the top. And you only caught your beneficiary as they turned the corner, the edge of a dark coat.

And you were unsure why such a small glimpse of a simple kind of action made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You turned, ready to call out to the person, or something.

“Girl!”

You jumped back, throwing on your shoe just as Mother Superior turned the corner and found you. 

“Quit hiding around, it’s time to get ready! Your father wishes to speak with you!”

-XXX-

If there was anything that could make this day worse, it was getting a call from your father. The den den mushi for the convent was not only slow, but your father had become unbearable.

The snail did a great job conveying his disregard for you.

“Do us both a favor, you, and be on your best behavior.” 

“Father-” you began, only to be sharply cut off.

“-While you may not want to be married, you, but there’s no other respectable path for your future. I promise there are much worse suitors who are interested, who wouldn’t care much for your consent.” 

“-Father-”

“Pirates, even.”

You froze. 

“Be a good girl, my dear. I mean, anything is better than one of those Doflamingo boys. I’ve heard that Donquixote is little better than a brute. He’s been looking for a noble bride and has the money. He had no real title, since that debacle, and has been calling me up incessantly.”

Surely your father wouldn’t be cruel enough to consider that? you didn’t dare call his bluff, only to be proven wrong. you had heard plenty about the fallen noble Doflamingos, and you knew that your father was no longer joking. If you pressed him, then he’d make it worse for you.

“You’ll be a darling, won’t you, my dear? Go make pretty eyes at that nice new fiance and make sure you walk away with a ring.”

…

“Yes… father.”

-XXX-

You sat in the citrus grove, finally alone. It was chilly, being outside well into the night with only a shawl, still wearing the day dress.

Fingers clenched in the fine, high-waisted cotton dress, simple but well made. It had been the only nice dress you possessed, but had still needed a quick fitting since you had lost weight as time slipped on. Dainty slippers pinched at your toes, clearly borrowed from someone who had smaller feet. 

Your hair had been groomed till it shone, left mostly up twisted into a pretty pearl netting to keep your face clear of any strays. Even makeup had been acquired.

Not even a week had passed, but you already met your new finacé.

And it had been what you expected. You had hoped that it wouldn’t be an extended meeting with the Noble fiancé because alas, no good were wishes anymore. Ronald W. Canonfire the Fourth was a long-winded, much older man looking for a pretty third wife, just to liven things up, since his other two were getting so old. And he disliked their ‘worn’ bodies since they had had almost twenty children between them.

You grit your teeth and played dumb.

Though you had been engaged, a first meeting tended to be shorter, by tradition. It was mostly to assure the buyer that the bride was as had been showcased to be. And if he approved, which he probably would, the wedding would proceed. And your next meeting with him would be the day you would go down the aisle.

Good Lord.

You couldn’t live that way.

No-

You wouldn’t.

You took in a deep breath, your chest heaving. Surely, this was not going to be the way your life went. Whatever it took, you would not be going down that aisle. You could secretly take the vows, or maybe even slip away, and find work on the docks disguised. Or stowaway!

Anything.

Anything, but this life.

So you stood, unsure of what path you were going to take, only sure that you had to take it. 

And to hear a lock break.

The door on the side of the monastery creaked open.

You whip your head around, confident someone has somehow read your thoughts.And your chest nearly seizes as you brace yourself for whatever is coming.

The first thing you saw, from the deep shadows of the doorway, were well-oiled boots. Followed by dark pants, a rich black coat, and a sleek hat with a feather. A cutting figure, to say the least. His scandalous lack of a shirt was not missed, nor were the cut muscles that gleamed pristine white. 

You take a step back, thinking you should probably call out for help, but are unable to find the words.

There is something downright transfixing about this man, and it’s not just the way his muscles cut down to the downright sinful apex of his pants. 

He’s older, but not much.

Your mouth goes dry.

“Are you going to throw your shoe again?” He has a mild tone, almost bored. “Or should I wait?”

“You-” You mutter in fascination. “You are the man who threw back my shoe.”

He steps through, letting the gate swing close behind him.

“Why are you here?” You ask, perplexed. You might be afraid, but he looks so disinterested that you can’t help but feel a bit calm.

“Are you going to throw it at me this time?” He asks again, a sharp brow raising.

Heck, the man’s entire face was sharp, accentuated by well-groomed facial hair, and generous lashes, held together by a severe expression. 

His unmissable eyes must have seen your first, for when your gaze reached his face, he was already looking at her. 

Startled, you realized they were gold. Gold, and almost alien in appearance. All of these things were eye-catching and startling.

And for a moment, both stared.

But that’s not what you gazed at with an abrupt interest.

Just as he stepped into full view of the single lantern overhead, the light danced off the large metal cross on the man’s back, giving you a view of what must be the largest sword you’ve ever seen.

“Is that a kriegsmesser?” You said before you could stop yourself. “It’s enormous.”

You swear at yourself, as a reminder that the last thing you need to do is start fangirling over weapons, lest you encourage the intruder to use his own. And for it to come out like you is an innuendo.

It truly was a long, horrible day, if this was your best manners.

One of the man’s brows lifted, followed by a slight down curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Yoru.” He answered, and you blinked. “Is hardly so simple as a mere Kriegsmesser. She may be my largest sword, but I’m effective with all I equipt.”

Your mouth tilted in a smile, glee filling your chest, before you managed to clear your throat at his sly joke. Suddenly you were ten again, on the deck of the ‘Sweet Joy’ and practicing your footwork. 

“Yoru,” You repeated, subtly swaying the motions you’d use with such a sword. It sounded familiar, though it had been ten years since you had read anything about swords. “May I see her?” You ask, forgoing all manners, like a bar whore.

This time, the man actually gave a smile, though it was very subtle. 

“It’s not for taming bunnies.” He said, coming a step closer, and glancing down at your feet.

“Lend me your blade and we can test that theory.” You retort sharply, much to his amusement, the way he leans forward.

“I hardly here for a fight with a nun.” He said with a drawl, his tone mildly amused. 

“I am not a nun.” He waved a hand like it made little difference. “Why did you come?” you said cooly, moving to put the bench between you. You hoped he was here to take you hostage, but you couldn’t make it seem easy, and give yourself away.

The man sighed, giving you a long look as if he could read your mind.

“Don’t kid yourself. I heard there’s good wine here.” The man replied, leaning against the door of the outer wall

You blinked.

“I guess.” you said, “But this isn’t exactly a store.” 

“Understood,” He said wryly.

“And the Abbot will also be asleep by now, even for a distinguished gentleman yourself.” You fold your arms.

“Hense the sidegate.” He tilted his fancy hat to the broken side door.

“Rude.” You reply. “I should scream.” You wave a hand.

He moves so quickly you don’t see him place a finger on your mouth until it’s there.

“Perhaps we can come to an accord.” The man said, and you stepped back, slapping the hand away.

“Perhaps, for the right price.” you gave him a long look. “Do you own a boat?”

The man lowered his chin, giving you a hard stare that you struggled to keep, and only did so since your entire life was on the line.

A nod and you assumed that meant yes.

“I need passage off this island. And quickly,” You muttered, lowering your voice and stepping closer. He sighed as if you had asked him to pluck the moon out of the sky.

“Oh? Now why would I ever do that? Even good wine isn’t worth a private ride on my boat.” He said, tone flat. 

“The wine is the best on the island. A vintage from my mother’s last shipment.” You bartered, standing your ground. “My word is good. I have my sommelier certification, and still have an active registration in the Vineyard Guild. I know wine.”

The swordsman looked you down steadily with his gold eyes.

“What’s your mother’s name?” He said, moving to the bench to sit before you, one leg elegantly flung over the other.

“Isabella Gabriella, the captain of the-”

“The wine merchant and you’re her daughter?” You wonder if you should be offended by the long look he gives you, but for some reason it fills you with butterflies, to be seen so thoroughly.

“You knew my mother?”

“Very well, girl. You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s make a deal.” He lifts a hand, gesturing to the monestary.

“I require two crates of wine for your passage to the next island.” He says, and you look at him harshly.

“This wine is worth at least a trip to the Grand Line.” You counter, fingers clenching your arms.

“Now why would a bunny like you want to go to the Grand Line? Surely you don’t think well-bred girls such as yourself are better off there than here?”

“If wine isn’t enough, then I’ll fight you for the honor of riding on your boat. If only to prove to you I can handle myself. ”

“Fight? You, a little bunny?” He said, this time you knew you had amused him, by the way the corners of his mouth raised. 

“I doubt I could defeat you, swordsman, but I’m not a girl. But if I can land even a single blow, would that impress you?”

“Very well.” He said, folding his arms. “This is hardly an appropriate venue. When an opportunity arrives, we’ll see what you’re made of.”

You lower your arms, placing your hands flat against your dress. Better for him to underestimate you now.

“Fine. When and where?” 

The man stood, turning to the gate, practically making you follow him out.

“It bores me to wait, so be by the docks to my ship by next nightfall. And only come if you manage to get the wine, girl.”

“I’m not a girl.” You say, and then clearly annunciate your name, but the man just walks down the cobblestone road, away from you. “What’s your name?” You call out, brows furrowed, arms holding the door to not clang.

“Dracule.”

He doesn’t look back.

And as you swiftly go back into the monastery, already planning your escape, you can’t help but get the notion that you’ve heard that name before.

#fanfic #romance #op #onepiece #one piece #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #If you have the imagination #it’s just fanfic folks

[friendlyneighorhoodchaosdemon]

Catharsis | Adrian Chase

this fic is race/ hair type/ body type neutral; why does that matter? If you feel I’ve overlooked something in regard to this, no matter how “small”, please let me know!

@stealsteels threatened to BEAT ME UP (real) if I didn't post this so I'm doing it.

(…in all seriousness, thank you for all of your encouragement, it truly means the world ♡)

word count | 5.1k (woof)

warnings/ notes | 18+, fluff/ smut; clit rubbing/ fingering, spanking, vibrators, kink discovery/ exploration, trusting and communicating with your partner (hot), service top Adrian, masochistic reader/ sadistic Adrian if you squint. I don't write piv :)

as noted, this contains spanking. It is of course fully consensual, something reader explicitly asks for and (most importantly) NOT a punishment, but I realize it still isn’t everyone's thing, so please be mindful.

also this is incredibly self indulgent and tbh maybe a little out of character, and turned out a lot fluffier and domestic that I intended.

ao3

minors/ ageless blogs please respect my wishes and do not interact with my work/ blog. I will block you :)

You hear him before you see him. A double shift at Fennel Fields followed by hours of shooting a bunch of appliances in the woods with Chris and he still careens into your apartment with all the intensity and finesse of a hurricane. The endless amount of energy he seemed to have was sometimes baffling, and while it was usually fun to have your own personal Energizer bunny around (especially in bed), sometimes you really envied it. 

You especially envy it on days like today when you felt like you could barely drag yourself through a comparatively low stakes and low effort day.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, because as soon as he toes his shoes off (a task that takes significantly longer than it should because he refuses to untie his laces, insisting that it’s faster even though it clearly isn’t) and rounds the corner into the kitchen, he shoots you his signature smile and you instantly feel that warmth you only seem to feel around him. 

Shoes successfully removed, he ambles over to where you stand in front of the stove, fanning yourself as you lower the heat of the burner. Strong arms instinctively find their way around your waist and he nuzzles into your side, dropping tiny kisses to your cheek. Said kisses are, of course, mostly a means of distraction so that he can reach around you to grab the spoon you'd been stirring with and stick the entire thing in his mouth, but it’s still cute enough to earn him a few kisses in return.

You return to stirring (with a new spoon), humming your replies as he launches into his recap of the day’s events. The recaps are rarely linear (sometimes they're not even coherent), so by now you’re used to the way he flip flops between how crazy the recoil from Chris' Desert Eagle was (“I mean yeah okay, I shot it without his permission, but holy shit babe that thing is crazy! Maybe I should get one. I mean when you think about it it’s actually kind of weird that we don’t have matching guns. Do you think he would think that was weird? If I got the same gun as him?”), to how he’d broken a guy's kneecaps after he'd caught him pushing his girlfriend into a wall in a dark alley, to how some other guy had actually proposed at Fennel Fields (“but don’t worry babe, when I propose it’ll be somewhere way nicer. Like at least  Olive Garden or better.”)

The last bit earns him an eye roll and a nudge to the ribs, but you still can’t help the grin that pulls at your lips.

With dinner done, he finally disentangles himself from you to grab the plates and silverware and plops down in front of the tv. Tonight you’re finishing up the latest season of Barry (a show he finds hilarious, more for the gore than the actual comedy), but the second you take your seat next to him his arms immediately find their way around your middle. 

“You know you can’t eat if you’re holding me, right?” you question, arching an eyebrow at him.

Undeterred, he pulls you even tighter, insisting that he “totally can though!”

“I’ve mastered the art. See, look,” He demonstrates said “mastery” by pulling you into his chest and bringing his plate around so that it sits on his open palm in front of you. He grins down at you, hopeful you’ll just ignore the high likelihood of pasta sauce spilling down your front with one wrong move. You pat his cheek and shake your head no, moving to separate your bodies. He pouts, truly pouts at you and once again find yourself unable to hide your smile. 

“Okay okay, what about if you lay down on my chest and I put my plate on your back?” 

“Then how would I eat?” 

He ponders this for a second until you see another lightbulb go off.

“Okay, what about you sit in my lap and hold your plate and I-”

“I swear, if you suggest putting your plate on my head...”

“You didn’t let me finish!” 

Another skeptical look before you sigh and motion for him to finish.

“...But yes I was going to say that.”

The way he seems to so desperately want this to work is perhaps a little annoying, but mostly very cute and endearing. Another eye roll makes it clear that his request is out of the question, and he’ll, for the time being, have to settle for eating like a normal person.

You turn your attention back to the screen just in time to see a guy's brains splatter as he gets shot in the head point blank. Despite the fact that you know about Adrian’s propensity for violence, it still gets to you and you wince. He pulls you tightly into his side, rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder and you settle into his touch, muttering your thanks into his sweatshirt and pressing a grateful peck to his chin. You sigh contentedly and press your face into his side and your eyes drift closed as you inhale his scent.

A bark of laughter jolts you awake. You hadn’t even realized you’d fallen asleep, but sure enough when you look up the credits are rolling. You yawn and stretch, craning your neck to look up at him and he seems to immediately sense your stare. He smiles that smile, the one that’s sweet like his normal one but also not, doing absolutely nothing to hide the fact that he’s thinking about something not so sweet, and the proof of what he exactly he's thinking is now pressing up against you. You turn to face him fully, taking in his lopsided smile and the slight splotchy blush creeping over his neck and plant a small teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Obviously this isn’t enough for him, and he leans over to gently grab the back of your neck and pulls you to him. The kiss is… kind of a lot, to be honest, but most things with Adrian are. Overeager as always he wastes no time licking along the seam of your mouth, asking for entry. You don't oblige him, not yet, opting to tease him instead as you nip his bottom lip.

You hug him closer, feeling the muscles in his back flex under your touch as he tilts your head to the side to suck at the skin of your neck. You move to straddle him but he's already getting impatient and makes a frustrated sound as he grips your thighs and pulls you the rest of the way into his lap. With you seated fully on top of him, he moves one hand to your hip to hold you solidly in place while the other snakes up under your shirt. Adrian is rarely smooth and tonight is no exception. His hands move over you as if he's unsure where to go or where to stop, touching you like it's the first time. They ghost over your stomach and up between your breasts before finally settling on your ass in a nice firm hold.

He finally frees your neck, laving sloppy kisses over your tender skin before pulling away completely. The momentary loss of contact is enough for you to come back to your senses and you push lightly against his chest.

“Hi.” Hi? You scoff at yourself. Great start. 

You have no idea why you’re feeling so self-conscious all of a sudden, especially when he's looking at you like that.

The way he noticeably focuses when you have something to say, absorbing your every word is endearing but sometimes it also feels so intense. Especially now, when he’s sitting here, half hard underneath you, eyes growing wide and curious under his large frames.

You gather yourself and clear your throat.

“I uh, I actually wanted to talk about something. To ask you something, actually. I mean, we obviously don’t have to do it tonight, or do anything tonight. I mean I know you’ve had a really long day so I don’t want you to feel obligated to do it tonight, or at all even, if you don't want to. I don’t even know if it’s something you’d be interested in so, no pressure, obviously.” 

You’re way too aware of the fact that you’re rambling, which is typically more of an Adrian thing than a you thing, but despite (or maybe because of) your awareness, you can’t seem to stop. The words just keep tumbling out, and now you’re getting flustered and a little bit annoyed with yourself, in large part because it's Adrian for Christ's sake. He's never judged you for your desires and you know it's not in his nature. Even now he just sits there, ignoring his own arousal, patiently waiting for you to get the words out, tracing comforting (albeit distracting) shapes against the tops of your thighs. In spite of all this you still struggle with simply just saying what you want– what you need. You take another breath.

"I want…" 

You had what felt like the most supportive partner in the world, so why did this feel so fucking hard?

He nods, squeezing your sides, encouraging you to continue. “Tell me what you want. Tell me and I'll give it to you.” 

"I, uh, I want you to spank me." You hold your breath, gauging his reaction carefully.

He immediately perks up at this and just like that, you’re at ease again. Not even a hint of the hesitation or confusion (or even worse, judgment or disgust) you’d dealt with the few times you’d brought it up with previous partners. Not even the well meaning (but kind of annoying) "I don't want to hurt you" you'd come to expect. Then again, this is Adrian, your Adrian, and now you’re wondering why you were even worried in the first place. 

Then again, it wasn't like this was exactly a shocking revelation. Adrian already knew you liked some pain and he’d been more than happy to give you the occasional playful spank before, in and out of the bedroom. Even though what you're asking for now was much different, his reaction is a huge relief.

For his part, he sits there, fucking beaming at you. His eyes drift to your lips again, tongue sneaking out to lick his own as he leans in to nip at you this time. For a moment he lingers, like he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you or move back down to your neck. He goes with the former, pulling you into a searing kiss. You don’t consider yourself the type to get easily flustered, but fuck if he isn’t literally taking your breath away right now. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, payback for earlier, and you gasp. His hand moves to cradle the back of your neck again, squeezing just the tiniest bit. You know he's barely using any of his strength and that knowledge makes you shudder.

“So, how do you want to do this?”

You laugh, “I um…” To be honest, you kind of hadn’t really put much thought into logistics and the kiss wasn't making it any easier to think.

You don’t have to flounder for too long though, because now that you’ve put the idea into his head, he’s running with it. 

“Want me to bend you over the couch?” 

Another thing most people don’t know about Adrian, and you’re thankful for this, is how… focused he can be. Especially when properly motivated.

“Or I could put you over my lap. Get you nice and relaxed and just… help get all the tension out. Would you like that? Hm?” Hia hands have drifted back to your ass and he pinches it now to emphasize his point, making you yelp.

You can tell how excited he’s getting both by the way he continues to ramble and by the way he’s started to absentmindedly rut up against you. You don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it because he’s still talking, seemingly completely unaware.

“Maybe we should get a paddle. I’d love to see your ass jiggle when I hit it with a paddle. Fuck, do you have one? Should we get one right now? Or a riding crop. Or- what are those things with all the tassels?”

“Adrian, do you really want to buy a flogger right now? Or do you want to take me to bed?"

“Right, right.” Without warning, he stands and you do your best to cling to him as he makes his way to your bedroom. From this position it’s harder to grind against him, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. You press your lips against the long column of his throat, moving up from his Adam’s apple to kiss behind his ear. You move back down and up again, repeating the action on the other side. He groans, deep and guttural and filthy, and you think it’s the loveliest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Stopstopstop, you’re distracting me!” He huffs, cutely, like he really has the audacity to be annoyed right now.

You grin into his neck, unable to stop yourself from softly nibbling his ear.

He places you down on the bed, crawling over you to kiss down your neck and you arch into him, hands sliding down his chest, toned muscles apparent despite the thick material of his sweatshirt, before reaching his waistband. You move to tug them down, desperate to feel him in your hands but he quickly grabs both your wrists and holds them above your head. He pulls back to look at you, smiling a very different smile now.

You try in vain to tug your wrists free, whining for him to let you go so you can touch him, but the look he fixes you with is enough to shut you up. Slowly, slowly he trails his free hand down your chest and slips it into your shorts, rubbing you over your panties. 

You moan, clamping your thighs around his hand and grinding yourself into his touch, growing more and more desperate by the second. When he finally he relents and releases your hands you're panting, but you waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands in his curls as he returns to your neck, kisses turning to bites.

He rucks your shirt all the way up and you lift so he can finish tugging it over your arms. You shiver, fully exposed to him now and he bends down to take one nipple in his mouth, alternating between gentle bites and sucks while circling the other with his thumb and you sigh dreamily, pushing up into his touch.

Your hand drifts back to the nape of his neck, absently dragging your nails up and down the back of his scalp, dark curls running through your fingers and he groans against your skin. You move for his pants again but he bites your nipple that much harder; a clear warning.

He releases your nipple and you think he's switching to the other one but he instead fixes you with another stern look. His voice is lower this time when he speaks.

“Are you gonna behave, or do I need to tie you up?”

You can’t help the shiver that runs through you, or the whimper that escapes your lips at his words.

As enticing as the offer is, you’re starting to get antsy. You nod your head and mutter your assent and he smirks, seemingly satisfied with your answer. 

The look he gives you this time is much softer but it still makes your blood run hot, makes you feel like the electricity in your nerves is sparking just under your skin. You turn your head to the side and without missing a beat he grabs your chin lightly, guiding your gaze back to him.

Heat rushes up your neck to your cheeks, but you make yourself hold his gaze. His pupils are almost completely blown black now, cheeks ruddy and lips set in a firm line. 

"I care about making you feel good.” The sincerity in his voice floods you with warmth.

“Are you gonna let me?”

You whimper, wishing he’d just go back to kissing you, but you know the question isn’t rhetorical.

“Yes, yes, please Adrian just- please”, you pant, stretching up, wordlessly begging him to kiss you again, to do something, but he doesn't relent. He just holds your gaze while you pout and squirm under him.

“Now, tell me what you want.”

You peer up at him, uncertain of what he means. “I told you, I want you-”

“No, tell me exactly what you want. Be specific. Do you… do you want me to punish you?” His voice quiets a bit at the end.

“No! No, I don’t. I don’t want it to be a punishment. I-I don’t know. I just…  I do want it to hurt but... I more just want to not think, just for a while. Sorry, that’s not what you asked but-”

“No, no that’s good. That’s good.” 

He finally lets go of your wrists and kneads the muscles in your shoulders. The warmth and pressure from his hands soothes your nerves and you sigh and smile up at him.

“Alright, get over my lap then.”

You scramble to obey, already dizzy with anticipation. You feel giddy with it, and despite your nerves you couldn't deny how badly you wanted this– wanted to feel his hands on you, wanted him to make you feel release only the way he could.

You splay yourself over his spread legs, head resting on the pillow you’d grabbed. Now that you’re unable to see what he’s doing, your mind starts to race. Your pulse quickens, and you start to get that familiar floaty feeling you get whenever he takes control and you get to let go.

He puts one hand on the small of your back and with the other he finally, mercifully, tugs at your waistband. You can feel just how hard he's gotten now as he presses into your hip, but he doesn’t move. Adrian isn't much for teasing but he makes no move to touch you, so you wiggle your hips in the hope that it’ll get him to do… something. He presses firmly on your lower back and you huff, but still yourself anyway. He slowly smooths over the muscles in your lower back, pressing deeper and deeper until you relax into his touch. 

He moves lower, gripping the meat of your ass, kneading it softly, and you’re not sure if the gentle touches are genuine or if he’s trying to get you to let your guard down before he starts.

He unceremoniously spreads your legs, dipping his hand between your thighs before ghosting his fingers over your lips. He moves to circle your clit over your underwear and you moan into the pillow, bucking your hips back into his hand, searching for more of whatever he’s willing to give you.

You should’ve known better again, because as soon as you do, his hand comes down squarely against your ass. The pain isn’t so bad, but the sound is enough to make you jump. 

"Oh." he says quietly, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

You're not sure exactly what he means by this but you don't have time to think about it too hard before he brings his hand down again, this time on the other cheek. He stops briefly and you move to turn and ask if that's all he intends to do, but you feel another stinging slap before you get the chance.

“You said you wanted it to hurt, right?” You mumble a "yes", high and breathy, into the pillow that’s smushed against your face.

"Then ask me nicely."

Fuck.

"Adrian, please, please, fucking- just - harder please."

The pace he sets now is unrelenting. You pretty quickly become aware of the fact that he's making sure there's no pattern for you to predict and the thought makes you even giddier.

One smack, and then another, the stinging pain hovering just on the edge of too much, dulling all of your other senses. You start to get that familiar hazy feeling, and you relax into it, welcome it, will it to take you over completely.

Left, left, left, right, left again, one sharp, followed by a few open handed ones to your thigh in quick succession. All the while he's rubbing small, tight circles against your clit with his other hand.

His fingers move to tease your entrance, rubbing small circles into you and like the slaps he's doling out they seem to have no predictable rhythm.

"I think… this is really unlocking something in me," he mutters, more to himself than to you. 

You’d been so focused on what he was doing that you only now realize how embarrassingly loud your moans had been, but his comment draws something out of you. You’re whining and writhing against him, not even trying to look dignified at this point, the sensation verging on overwhelming but so so good.

Suddenly it’s gone, and you whine in protest. For a moment everything is still, and you realize for the first time how quickly your heart is beating.

“Still okay?”

You don’t think you can form words right now, but you groan an affirmative, hoping it gets your message across. Adrian gently tilts your chin so he can look into your eyes and confirm. “Yes?” he questions, and your heart warms at the way he asks, at the way he always wants to be certain. The way he's biting his lip also tells you you’re not the only one who's enjoying this.

You exhale sharply, forcing your brain and mouth to actually form words, making sure your "yes" is clear. He nods once in return and releases your chin, and you sigh as you sink into the pillow again. Once you're comfortable, he starts again.

"Good girl. Keep being good for me.”

The sharp stinging pain and the dull thudding of his open palm are starting to run together, all becoming one sensation. He grips the fat of your ass again with one hand, releases it and brings the other hand down. He repeats this a few more times; squeezing, releasing and then bringing his hand down quickly before the blood has the chance to rush back under your skin, gauging your reactions each time, cataloging every whimper, moan and twitch, every shudder, flinch and squeal and rewarding each in kind.

“You like that? You like it when I hurt you like this? You like my fingers rubbing your pretty little clit like this?”

With this he runs his fingers back through the slick between your legs, teasing a finger against your opening.

"Jesus, fuck, look at you. Is this all for me? Yeah? Answer me." You can’t help but whine at that, telling him "Yes, yes it's all for you, all for you Adrian!" hiccuping and helpless to do anything but feel him.

He continues, “I think I know what you want, but you know you have to use your words,” he chides. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, yes! Pleasepleaseplease” You’re nearly sobbing now, tears you hadn't even noticed before falling freely now.

“I think I have something you’ll like even better,” he says, and your heart leaps at the thought of what he could possibly have in mind. You move to turn to him, but a firm hand on your back keep you in place.

He draws his hand back and you brace yourself for the inevitable impact, but it doesn't come. You huff, knowing full well he's absolutely got the shittiest grin on his face but you refuse to turn around this time, refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your annoyance. So the two of you just sit there, momentarily suspended, at the world’s tensest, horniest impasse. You, over his lap, your panties hanging off of your ankle, and him, with presumably one hand raised in the air and one tracing faint shapes into the skin of your inner thighs.

"You," he starts, taking a deliberate breathe like he's trying to compose himself, trying to stave off the arousal he's thus far been able to keep at bay. He’s still got his pants on, and the combination of that and you writhing and moaning on top of him is starting to become unbearable.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me."

He sounds dangerous now, voice too measured and now the tension is really starting to get to you.

He’s moving on the bed, doing his best to not jostle you too much but you can still feel his hips and cock shift under you as he reaches over to the drawer on your side of the bed. 

You hear him rifling through it, various objects clattering as he tosses them around. You use this time to ground yourself, taking a few deep breaths but they do little to stop the way your blood is still rushing under your skin. You have an idea of what he’s looking for, but you don’t dare turn around to confirm your suspicions. 

Finally, the rustling stops and he chuckles triumphantly.

He’s quiet again. Suspiciously, unnervingly quiet. Adrian is so rarely quiet that when he is it's noticeable. He’s still lazily running his fingers between your thighs, purposefully avoiding your clit this time, despite the insistent roll of your hips. Like he’s got all the time in the fucking world.

You hear the telltale buzz of the Magic Wand behind you, but he doesn’t give you time to register it before he pushes the head right up against your clit. You cry out, the sensation immediately far too intense, but despite your struggle he continues to firmly hold you in place. You whine pathetically, the pressure and vibration too much too soon, and he eases up just a little so the vibrations are still strong, but not so overwhelming.

You keep squirming, you can’t help it, and he moves the toy from your clit. This time you chase it, now desperate for stimulation and he chuckles above you and spanks your ass again.

“Fuck!” You cry out, burying your face into the pillow again. You know how you probably look, completely fucked out, tears splilling freely from your eyes now as you sob ugly and way too loud sobs, but you can't think about that right now. You were close, so so close. You just needed that extra little push.

“You’re doing so well baby. Can you take a few more?” and he asks so sweetly you can't even think about saying no.

Adrian returns to rubbing the small of your back, his voice a little softer now. He knows the telltale signs of your impending orgasm, and he always knows how to get you over the edge.

You gasped an “uh-huh”, arching into his touch and this time he allows it and repositions the toy directly against your clit again. Despite his softer tone, his hand comes down again just as hard and unrelenting as before and you’re honestly glad he isn’t going softer now that he knows you’re close.

He turns the vibration up a little more and the extra stimulation is exactly what you need. You feel your body seize momentarily as you clench and shake and for a split second everything feels still before your orgasm crests and breaks over you. 

You hold onto that feeling for as long as you can, letting the wave break and settle and feeling your brain go blissfully hazy.

You feel floaty, your body feeling absolutely spent, wrung out completely and everything in that moment feels so perfect.

Adrian slowly ghost gentle touches over your back and down over your ass and thighs. You feel something cool and sigh contentedly as he rubs lotion into your stinging flesh.

You work to steady your breathing, reveling in the feeling of his gentle touch and the sweet praises he mumbles.

He knows you sometimes get a little dizzy and fucked out after you cum, (loves it, really) so he waits for you to gather yourself. Once he finishes you roll onto your stomach.

You wouldn't blame him for being self satisfied or even cocky in this moment, but the smile he wears now is anything but. It's just warm and sweet, like him. 

He grabs one of the small hand towels you keep in the bedside drawers and gently wipes you down, knowing how much you hate the feeling of sweat on your skin after and helps you pull a fresh pair of underwear and one of his oversized shirts on as you settle into his lap.

“Was it.. was it good for you? Was it too hard?” You hear the little bit of worry start to creep into his voice and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no not at all. It was perfect Adj. You know I would’ve stopped you if something was wrong.”

He visibly relaxes at this, and resumes running his fingers over your tender flesh, humming softly.

It’s quiet, and for a while the only sound you’re aware of is your breathing. When he speaks again, it’s like he’s already in the middle of a thought.

“But seriously. Whatever you need, you know I’m happy to do it for you. And you know how much I love taking care of you. I just always want to make sure I make you feel good, you know?”

You smile at his confession. “Yeah, I know. And thank you. Seriously."

You clear your throat. “It's just nice to have someone who cares, you know?”

He hums thoughtfully, still rubbing your skin gently.

"I know you care about me as a person, and I'm not saying you're the only one who does. I meant more, it's nice to have someone who cares about making me feel good. Not to say that other people were just using me for sex but… with you it's just,” you go quiet again. “It’s just different."

“So thank you. For… this. For not being weirded out by it, I mean. And for doing it, of course.”

You sit up so you can look him in the eye now and he pulls you into him fully, arms tight and secure. The last thing you're aware of before you drift off this time is his scent as he kisses your temple.

#adrian #adrian chase x reader #adrian chase x you #adrian chase smut #adrian chase fic #adrian chase imagine #vigilante smut #Vigilante #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #m.txt #fics #writing #m.writing #adrian chase x black!reader #anyway if you saw me delete and repost this no you didn't #adrian chase

[princessofmarvel]

Love Story

summary | renfield falls for the vampire hunter sent to kill his boss 

pairing | robert montague renfield x van helsing!fem!reader! 

wc | 1.5k 

genre | fluff! 

warnings! | this is not really proof read yet, but other than that, nothing that i can think of, lol 

requested? | yes! i combined two requests the best that i could since they were for the same character and song! i hope that you all enjoy it! and, if you have requested something, i promise that i am getting to them!

authors note | i loved these ideas! keep sending them in for the swift series! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!

  You had just landed in New Orleans. Your family is sending you to take out the most notorious vampire known to man, Dracula. Being a Van Helsing, you had trained your whole life for this very moment. You beat out everyone in your family for this opportunity. 

Your family had found out where his location was, and sent you immediately. You made your way through the parking lot before being stopped by a voice. 

“Miss? May I help you?” Said the voice. You spun around fast to find a young man with brown hair. He seemed to be around your age. You thought that he may be one of two things. He was either lost or another vampire that you would have to kill. 

“I’m fine, thanks” You said as you continued forward. You were almost to the door before he jumped in front of you. 

“Miss, I don’t think you should go in there.”

  “Sir, I have a job to do, If you would please move.” 

“As do I, and I truly can not let you though.” 

“Then you will have to make me.” You said as you straightened your back to him, and placed your hand on your stake. 

  “Miss, I can assure you that you would rather not.” He said. The moment he looked away, you took your chance and in one punch knocked him out. 

You felt something was up once you got a better look at him. Yes he could pass as a vampire, but with his mouth slightly open, you could tell there were no fangs. You decided to take him back to your hotel room and get some answers. 

Renfield wakes up, dizzy at first and then he notices the woman holding a crossbow of stakes at his head “Woah! Woah! Miss, I’m not one of them! I swear!”

  “Then who the hell are you?” You ask, not lowering your weapon

“I’m Robert Montague Renfield” He answers. “Please lower your weapon.” “Renfield? The Renfield? That's not possible, you should be over 100 by now.” You said while lowering your weapon some. 

“I promise I’m not lying, why else would I have been there?” He says. You stare at him for a moment. He seems like he is telling the truth. “I’ll prove it, feed me a bug and my eyes will turn yellow.”

“If I feed you one of these and you attack me, I can guarantee that you will be dead within a second. You hear me?” He nods, and you pick up his tin, and feed him one. You watch as his eyes do change to yellow, and he breaks his ropes. 

“See?” He says as he rubs his wrist. 

“Why am I not dead?” You ask as you head to the fridge, leaving him confused.

“I beg your pardon?” He asks, following you, confused.

“You kill anyone that comes for Dracula, so why am I still alive.” You watch as he frowns, as you sip your soda. 

“Please, do not remind me, I hate myself for it.” This shocks you as you stare at him.

“What do you mean, don’t you do it on your own free will?” You ask, sitting down at your table. 

“Of course not.” He says while he sits across from you.

“You mean to tell me that you don’t do this because you want to protect Dracula? You say, offering him a soda as you do. 

“I don’t….not anymore at least, if I could get out, I would, he just won’t let me go.” He says while looking down. 

“Wait, you are bound to him?” You ask. You had always heard the stories of Renfield tearing over vampire hunters to shreds, it just does not make sense to you. 

“Yes, I am. I do want to be but he will not let me leave.” 

“Alright, I will help you, as long as you help me.” You say as you stand from the table. 

“Wait- What do you mean, you will help me?” He asks while standing too. 

“I need to kill your boss. Help me do so, and we both will get what we want.” 

“You would do that for me?” He asked, his eyes full of hope, while making your heart swell. 

“It would be cruel of me not to.”  You say as you smile. 

Over the next few weeks, you and Renfield meet up every day while trying to come up with plans on how to get rid of Dracula. 

You walk into your hotel room the next day waiting for Renfield, only to find Dracula sitting at my table. 

“So this is the woman that plagues Renfields mind?” He says as you put your crossbow of stakes down onto the counter. “Allow me to introduce myself” “I already know who you are.” You say as you say while staying far enough away so you could attack if needed. 

“Then introduce yourself to me, I would love to put a name with the face that he always thinks about” He said, like he was not asking.

“My name is (Y/n) Van Helsing” You said with a smirk. You knew he would know the name. 

“Ugh, are they still making those?” He said while standing, “Why have you Van Helsings never stopped, Do you know how many of your kind I have killed?” 

“Why are you here?” You asked while taking a slight step closer to him. “Are you gonna kill me?” 

“I should, and perhaps I will.” He said, and in a flash he grabbed her neck and pushed her against the wall. “Maybe I will take pity on you? Kill you quicker than your ancestors” 

He is taken aback by the laughter that comes from you next. “Why are you laughing? Is this some kind of joke to you? Losing your life?” 

“You won’t, can’t kill me.” You say in a laugh

“And why is that?” He asked, getting closer to intimidate you. 

“You know why, If you kill me, Renfield will find out, and blame you, and then you will never be able to control him again.” You say as you jerk his hand off of your throat. 

“Stay away from Renfield, are we clear?” He said while making his way for the door, he left before he could hear your answer. 

When Renfield came by later that day to see the marks on your neck from his hand, he was done, and he was ready to get rid of Dracula as fast as he could. 

It was a month later when Renfield and you finally had killed Dracula, you were in your hotel packing up to go home when there was a knock at your door, when you opened the door, you found Renfield standing in front of you.

“I just wanted to see you one last time before you left, Miss Van Helsing” He said with a sad smile on his face. 

“How many more times do I have to tell you to just call me (Y/n)” You said while inviting him in. 

“Would you like some help?” He asked while taking a look around the place, noticing that it had become plain again.

“No thank you, You know I was just starting to get comfortable here in New Orleans.” You say with a sigh. 

Renfield grabs her hand while she is packing “Please don’t go” he says in a small voice. 

“Renfield I-” You look up and his eyes are already looking into yours. 

He leans in and kisses you while he places a hand on your face gently. The kiss is gentle, and nervous, but full of need. When Renfield pulls away he immediately starts apologizing. “I am so sorry-” But before he could finish you pulled him back in, taking the air out of his lungs. 

“You really want me to stay?” you say as you two pull away from each other. 

“Yes,” He says out of breath.

“I will have to think about it” You say to him. Knowing that with your job, you will have to talk to your family about this first. 

Renfield was starting to lose hope that you would return. It had been months since he heard from you last. A knock at his door took him out of his misery, especially when he opened the door to see one special vampire hunter standing there. 

“Surprise” you say while pulling him in for a hug. You had to make some arrangements before you came back, but once you did, your family set you up with your own house in New Orleans for you to move into. 

Renfield hugged you as tight as he could. “I am so happy you came back.” He mumbled into your neck. 

“Well, I came back because I wanted to go out with a certain ex-slave of Draculas, any idea on who that could be?” You said with a smirk, teasing him. 

“I have no idea, Will you tell me more about him?” He said as he pulled away to look at you. 

“I will over dinner, how does that sound?” You say while looking up into his eyes while smiling. 

“That sounds absolutely wonderful.” He says while pulling you into his apartment, and shuts the door

#renfield #renfield imagine #renfield fanfic #renfield x reader #renfield fluff #robert montague renfield #r.m. renfield #renfield fic #renfield movie #nicholas hoult #nicholas cage #ben shwartz #awkwafina

[possessivedesires]

Injury

How would the yandere Hashira react to their Darling (who's also a hasira) coming home severely Injured and they were trying to hide it cause they knew if they were seen that injured their "partner" would force them to retire?

Kyujuro

“Where are they?” The loud voice made you freeze in mid step, knowing that you were busted. Of course Shinobu would send a letter out to Kyujuro, not knowing of the tendencies he has when it comes to you. No one knew, because no one believed you. Kyujuro was the perfect Angel, the perfect man. Who would ever believe anything he has done to you?

“Ky-“

“Firelily.” He was pissed, you knew that. His eyes didn’t hesitate to scan over your body; seeing the bandages covering your body. When you tried to look over at one of the butterfly girls for help, his hand moved his haori to block them from you. “We talked about this.”

He said with the sweet smile on his face, hiding the anger easily. It terrified you; wondering what awaited for you. Silently cussing Shinobu for sending him a letter, but know she was just wanting to help. “I-I know but-“

“Do you know what I would have done if I lost you?” You flinched at hearing him, looking down at hearing the concern in his voice. Even with him treating you awfully, you could never deny that he cares for you. Truly he does, just in his toxic way. “I thought-“

“You thought? Baby, love of my life, this…” He stepped closer to you, lifting your chin to stare at him. “This is why you don’t think. This is why you need to depend on me and only me. I can take care of you, I can protect you.”

“K-“

“There’s no arguing. Let’s go. Now.”

Shinobu

“Oh sweetheart.” You had no where to go but to her place; she had all the medical supplies and you could die without getting your injuries checked. Tears slipped over your face, staring at the woman who was giving you that innocent smile and letting you know just how much you were in trouble.

“I-I-“

“Hush now sweetheart; we don’t want you to waste your precious energy.” Shinobu had already decided that she was going to take you out of commission when you returned for the fact she didn’t like to be separated from you. But this… This made her realize just how much you needed to stop fighting demons.

You tried to struggle when she wrapped you in her arms, ignoring her sweet shushing. There was a sharp point to the back of your neck; sedatives kicking into your system while you began to slump forward in her arms. “There there, rest easy my love. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

Giyuu

This is the one that you could hide the easiest from. Mostly because he doesn’t know how to show his feelings; all the craziness is just bottling up more and more because he doesn’t know how to release it until it just cracks.

Like now.

“B-babe…?” He whispered, lowering the sword from his hand. There was a crash that made him panic in thinking there was a demon, but it was only you on the kitchen. Blue eyes were focused on the wounds crawling up your skin; poking out from poorly wrapped bandages. “It’s n-“

“Don’t… Dont tell me that this is nothing!!” He exclaimed, raising his voice and making you jump lightly. You’ve never heard him yell at you before, the sword digging into the wooden floor as he marched over to you. You backed up, trying to put the chair between the two of you and grabbing back on the cabinet. After being taken and forced to live with the hashira, this… this is the time you’ve honestly felt nervous of him. You’ve never seen him act like this before so you didn’t know how to predict what he was gonna do.

“Why did you even go?” He demanded, putting his hands on the table. You opened your mouth to answer, but Giyuu knew you. He knew what your answer would be. “Who gives a fuck about those people? You… You are the only thing I care about! I don’t care if all those people die!”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A hashira, a demon slayer, not caring about the lives at stake. Giyuu looked at your wounds again. “The thought of losing you… No… I won’t…”

He shook his head; making his way over to you and grabbed your arm before you could stop him. He tightened his arm when you tried to wiggle out of his grasp while he pulled you back to the bedrooms. “You’re no longer allowed to step out of this house, I won’t lose you too.”

Sanemi

“Babe, I’m back home.” He announced loudly, kicking off his shoes by the door while he put his katana on the table. Pale purple eyes immediately shot toward the direction of your shared room at hearing the crash, his hands only slamming open the door seconds later.

You were trying to collect the broken shards of a medicine jar, the medicine spilled over the floor. Sanemi narrowed his eyes, wondering why you need the medicine jar in the first place and his eyes turned to look at the bloodied bandies where you were sitting.

“S-say something!” You yelled out; the silence was pressuring for you- making it feel like you couldn’t breath. Sanemi was never quiet, so to know he was standing there and just… watching you; the thought terrified you. Your body flinched when he stopped in front of you, crouching down before his hand lifted up your jaw roughly. “What happened?”

“D-demon…”

“Demon…” He mused as if it was some joke, then stood up. Your eyes widened as you watched him walk toward the door. “Wha-what? What are you doing?”

“I’m going to to talk to the master.” Your eyes widened at hearing that, quickly running toward him and flinched when you felt him grab you. His arm wrapped around your throat, locking his arm as he held you close. “Don’t fight against me, I’m not gonna let you go out on missions anymore. From hear on, you’re dead. I’m gonna go tell the master that I found your body and you’re gonna spend out your days here. By my side. Understand it?”

You tried to argue with him, but Sanemi kept a hold on you till you passed out. Immediately taking his hand off, fingers pressing against your neck to check if you were okay and put you in bed. He tucked you in, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I do this because I love you.”

Tengen

*Before his own retirement

“There’s my darling!!” Tengen cheered excitedly, sliding in front of you with a large grin. Your eyes widened; not expecting to see the hashira home yet since he wasn’t due to be back for another three days. Three days you would have time to clean up, but his smile dropped when he saw the blood on you.

“Darling, what is this?” He narrowed his eyes at you, making you quickly try to wipe the blood from your skin. “I-it’s nothing.”

“This doesn’t look like nothing.” He even put quotations on the word, hand reaching out to grab your arm. You winced are the pain spiking up your dislocated arm. “See! This is what I’m talking about!”

“Lord Tengen, I’m f-“

“Don’t. If you finish that sentence I will lose my goddamned mind.” He pulled you closer, putting his hand on your lower back to guide you into the house. You looked down at the wives were watching you; they didn’t dare to step out to say anything when Tengen was angry like this. No one could win with him.

“Hey! Wait! What are you doing?!” You exclaimed as the shackle was put around your ankle; trying to tug it out from his grasp. “What do you think?”

“L-Lord Tengen, I thought we moved on from this!” You exclaimed; not wanting to be chained up again. He wasn’t listening to you, getting the medicines that he would need. “Can’t have my darling leave again; now can I? Hmm? You don’t need to do that job anymore.”

“You can’t be ser-“

“Girls; you’ll watch her when I’m not here. Right?” He looked to the three women who nodded immediately to his request. Good luck getting out.

Muichiro

Warnings: murder

You don’t know that Muichiro even knew you were hurt; not hearing him when he was close. Especially because he said nothing as he watched you tried to clean the wound and bandage it up.

But he knew he had to do something.

“Oh? It’s the (your hashira pillar).” You looked over at hearing the surprised Kinoe to your left. “I heard they retired yesterday.”

“They’re looking good for retirement.”

“But aren’t they so young? Maybe they just weren’t ready for being a hashira yet.” Retirement? That word stuck with you, making your way over to the kinoes. “Um… what do you mean im retired?”

“Huh? Whatcha mean by playing innocent? Everyone knows you retired yesterday. Muichiro told the master.”

“What? No I didn’t. I just got back from a mission yesterday… and I was going to give my report to the master.” You were confused. But the kinoes didn’t have time to answer because the familiar spoke out from the side. “Y/n.”

“Muichiro… We need to talk.”

“I know.” His pale blue eyes looked over at the kinoe standing there; feeling annoyed with their presence before he looked back to you. “Why… Why didn’t you talk to me about this? I don’t want to be in retirement.”

“It wasn’t up for decision.” You were surprised at hearing that, but your eyes only widened when his sword slashed through the two kinoes standing there. They shouldn’t have gossiped about you. “M-M-M-“

“Let’s go home.” He said, turning his body to face you. Not a thought behind those eyes; only dreaming on living with you and spending out his days by your side. “Now.”

Obanai

There was no hiding the scent of blood from Kaburamaru; no matter how much you tried. Obanai knew as he saw those crimson petals on your clothes; there was no way that he was going to let you do anything remotely dangerous again.

“I’m fine, I swear.” You tried to argue with him, but Obanai was having none of it. He didn’t believe you; fighting against you when you tried to push him away from taking care of you. “Stop! Stop just stop it.”

He growled, demanding your cooperation. It got to the point where he had to restrained you, being able to focus clearly on your wound and taking care of it. “You’re not leaving again.”

“But I said-“

“You’re not leaving again. That’s final.”

“You can’t-“

“I can and I will. Do remember who’s hands your family’s lives are in.” He hated to use that above your head, but necessary times call for necessary plays. Your hands clenched at hearing that and he picked up your sword from the bedside. “Wa-wait what are you doing?”

“You won’t be needing this again.”

“Wait no-!” Pieces of your sword fell to the ground, Obanai breaking it without a remorseful thought. Mix matched eyes looked over at your sulken form, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I’ll be talking to the master. Be good and don’t make me hurt you when I return.”

It was an empty threat, sorta, Obanai was not above breaking your legs to keep you from running. There was no more leaving the house; he wouldn’t let this happen again.”

Mitsuri

“Honeybunches!” Mitsuri cheered happily as you arrived back home, jumping in your arms and hugging you close. You winced, tears springing toward your eyes at the pain flaring but still hugged your psychotic lover back. But she noticed the wince.

“Sweetie?” She asked, leaning her head back; looking down at you and her eyes widened when she noticed the tears in your eyes. “Baby! Why are you crying? No no no no don’t cry.”

She immediately wiped away your tears, peppering your face in kisses. “Don’t cry! I’m right here for you! You’re home now, no reason to cry.”

That’s not the reason I’m crying… You thought, getting reminded of your injuries with all of her movement. Her hands gently pet your hair, putting her forehead against yours. “You’re all home now. And~ I’ve talked to the master, sooooo you’re on vacation. Permanently.”

“Wh-what?”

“I know we talked about you retiring and I thought it was a brilliant idea because you want to stay home with me.” Your head shook, feeling like your heart was stuck in your throat. No, you felt like you were sick. This was another one of her sick delusions; another one of her thoughts where she really thought you’d played along. “What? Aren’t you happy? Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Tears sprung in her eyes, making you feel guilty. Of course she knew how it effected you; that’s why she uses it to get what she wanted whenever it comes to you. A small sign came from you; letting her down and she grinned at you. “Come on! Let’s go spend our time together! We have so much to catch up on and all the time to do so!”

It didn’t matter if you were hurt or not, Mitsuri didn’t want you to be leaving anymore. So even if you can back completely fine; the end result would have been the same.

Gyomei

“Sweetie?” You didn’t hide your wounds, thinking that you were fine. But he could hear the way the bandages rubbed when you moved; it made the hashira frown. “What happened?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about lov-“

“You’re lying.” His hands gently held onto your face, thumb rubbing lightly over your skin. “You know I hate when you lie to me. Did you get hurt?”

“Yes…”

“Was it on your mission?”

“Yes…” He hummed, thinking about what he needs to do to. His hands moved to your back, pulling you closer to him to hug you closer. “I’m going to go get some supplies from Shinobu; please get some rest my love.”

He guided you to the bed, helping you lay down as he left the house. But he didn’t head toward the butterfly mansion, no, he went immediately to Kagaya. He was going to fake your death, going to keep you back at his house. Gyomei made a promise to protect you and he was going to keep that promise.

#yandere demon slayer #yandere kny #yandere kyojuro rengoku #yandere sanemi #yandere giyuu #yandere tengen uzui #yandere mitsuri #yandere gyomei #yandere shinobu #yandere muichiro #yandere obanai

[aroaceacacia]

something I have so many thoughts about but havent articulated before is that hermitcraft and its associated servers, and lifesteal and servers like it, despite both being survival multiplayer minecraft servers, are entirely different genres of minecraft youtube

hermitcraft, the life series, empires, truly bedrock, rats smp in some povs, and servers adjacent to them are let's plays. viewers sit with the creator and watch them complete various tasks or do whatever they do in their environment while listening to the creator's live commentary. these are serialized; everything is relatively small, links together into a chronological story, in whatever shape that may take.

lifesteal smp, earthbound smp, and servers like them are usually called "smp content". videos here are often more episodic (as opposed to serialized). creators often write scripts to summarize events after they've occurred, leaning fairly heavily on narration in one form or another. smp content often tries to optimize to the algorithm; you'll see very catchy thumbnails and exciting, interesting, clickable titles, and sometimes you might even see those things change as the creator tries out something different.

there are certainly exceptions to these rules - for example, oli orionsound has the upload schedule of some smp-style creators, and his resulting creations do have some visual and creative similarities to smp content! baconnwaffles0 uses his streams and resulting stream highlights to tell a story which is ultimately somewhat serialized, weaving in and around the main "lore" of lifesteal and simply showcasing the day to day life of himself and his team. and, of the so far one dominion smp video ive seen, vikingpilot seemed to blend these two genres together, interspersing events recorded with friends with narration explaining his story and lore, ultimately building up a narrative across videos that requires them to be seen in order. (I think. Again, not an expert here.)

my point here is that there are very distinct and marked structural and stylistic differences between hermitcraft and lifesteal. if you're a hermitcraft enjoyer concerned about too many new uploads, most lifesteal videos are a special occasion and action is usually found in livestreams (this could be fun or stressful, depending). if you're a lifesteal enjoyer you may find hermitcraft's regularity and often lower stakes to be understimulating, or maybe you'll be relieved to be able to entirely keep up with hermitcraft and its sister servers in videos alone. who knows! they're very different, in a good way

#bearvocalizations #lifesteal smp #mcyt #mcytblr #the smp content thing isnt just smth inpulled out of my ass thats the term ccs use to describe this part of mcyt #tho the lets play paragraph is entirely based on my own observations #theyre sister genres and theres overlap but theyre definitely their own separate phenomena #edit: corrected a term

[lotsofthinkythoughts]

tell me (sweet little) lies

Summary: Astarion thinks over the things he's said to Tav, the lies, and comes to a realization. Maybe they weren't lies at all.

AO3 Link

----

“You can trust me.”

The words echoed around his head, louder and louder as if amplified. That night, the terror of waking from the reverie with Cazador’s voice still in his ears, sat like a knot in his gut. It was the beginning of everything.

It was only a test.

For himself. To see if he’d truly slipped the leash.

The heady warmth of her blood thumping in her veins had sung to him like a siren on the shore, and weak and hungry and desperate for safe harbor he’d followed the call. When Tav opened her eyes, it had been a shock, the kind that rang a death knell over his head, but she’d only stared at him. She hadn't moved, hadn't reached for a stake or blade as he scrabbled backwards like a beast in flight.

And then had let him drink, had protested firmly but gently when it was too much for her, had agreed with his plans of feasting on the blood of their enemies all while offering herself up as a backup.

It was too kind. Too much. No one could give so much and not want recompense. But he simply couldn’t afford to lose the shield she was. Her damned too soft heart led them into too much trouble to simply trust she could be pragmatic.

And while it was damned convenient when she was helping him specifically it made things all the more complicated that she wished to help everyone. Too often she’d give him a disappointed look when he suggested cutting from all this nonsense with the tieflings - it wasn’t as if they mattered. What mattered was making the most of these tadpoles. What mattered was that he would never go back to Cazador. He refused to be owned ever again.

But Tav - Tav had taken him at his word - that she could trust him. More fool her. But she was providing him a service, even if she didn’t realize it.

And a service, well, a service he could earn. A service he could repay.

--

“What do any of us want? Pleasure. Yours. Mine. Our mutual ecstasy.”

But she’d seen - eyes too keen by half, and he’d had to try harder. To push aside the disgust at bartering himself again, and yet, it’d been easier than any time in memory.

“You know we don’t have to do this, don’t you?” She said, fingers in his hair, as he kissed his way down her belly, her skin warm and soft and smelling of flowers from the soap she’d so proudly showed off from pocketing in the wreckage of Waukeen’s Rest earlier.

He looked up at her, chin resting just below her navel. Her eyes were shrouded in shadow, but that couldn’t hide the soft concerned look from him. It made a part of his heart ache, and for a moment resentment sparked in his gut. She’d said yes. She’d agreed. And she was trying to pull away his only method to insure she’d stay on his side now?

Pasting a charming smile onto his mouth, he pushed himself up, hovering over her naked body. “Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“Only what I said. You don’t have to pretend, you know. If you don’t actually want this - it’s fine. I don’t… it’s fine.” She glanced away, eyes trailing over to the side, to the tree he’d pressed her against only moments before.

He frowned. The spark of anger faded into confusion. This wasn’t how it was meant to go, he needed her present, needed her invested, needed her to care. But she was pulling away, going somewhere else, and he needed her to come back.

He lowered himself down to one elbow, raising a hand to cup her face, and turned it so she was facing up at him once more. She blinked twice, her eyes filmed over with tears. “What’s this?” He said, running a thumb under her eye as they spilled over.

“Just… You wouldn’t be the first. To … change their mind.”

That momentary ache surged once more, a strange understanding and kinship that he hadn’t expected. It made his gut twist. He had to keep her on his side, had to keep her close. Tether her to him.

He leaned in, running his nose over the apple of her cheek, smelling the perfume of her skin, and the distant iron and wine flavor of her blood underneath it.

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, darling. Don’t you worry about that.” He whispered, sucking against her neck without biting.

It was enough to make her gasp softly, tension ebbing out of her as she tilted her neck to the side. “Astarion,” she whispered.

He ghosted a hand along the curve of her hip, fingers trailing along the crease of her thigh, until he reached her centre, dipping a finger inside.

She gasped his name again, her fingers wrapping around his hair, arm slung over his shoulder. Her hips bucked up against his hand, and her blood thumped even louder in her veins. His fangs scraped against her skin and she inhaled raggedly.

“You can - it’s okay. You can bite if you want, ‘starion.” Her fingers carded through her curls, gripping tight when he pulled his mouth from her skin again. She whimpered and clung.

“That’s right, pet. Trust me,” he said, before biting down, drinking that precious nectar, taste blooming over his tongue.

And yet, he couldn’t appreciate it, because a knot of guilt was building in his gut. Trust.

It was the last thing he deserved. But oh he wanted it.

--

The weeks passed, days in the endless twilight of the Underdark, where he was forced to rely on her even more than before. She never complained, never resented his need for blood. And still the knot of guilt grew.

She swore to protect him from Cazador. But he could take no pleasure in it, couldn’t revel in the triumph when she looked at him with those sad earnest eyes.

What was it about her?

There was nothing special about her, she was NOTHING. No one. A girl with a good eye and too much kindness, flitting between all of the weirdos they’d picked up, looking at them all with the same concern, wanting to know what they wanted, needed, how to help.

Even the druid - a foot and a half taller than her and prone to turn into a bear - but she’d invade the elf’s space and try to draw him out into conversation.

And every time Astarion saw it a part of him burned, deeply aware of how easy would it be for any of them to take her away.

The one thing he relied on.

The one person he could trust.

He closed his eyes and shoved the thought down ruthlessly. He didn’t trust her. Couldn’t rely on anything he didn’t trade for. And hells how he’d traded for her goodwill. Never mind that he’d been more present during sex than he’d been in a more than a century's worth of memory - never mind that when he’d enticed her out to the woods after the tieflings’ party she’d spent more time simply curled against him, sharing a bottle of wine, hand curled against his saying they had time.

It had been… nice.

He didn’t know what to do with nice.

Then suddenly, when he’d gotten used to the knot in his gut and the feeling of guilt for taking her desire to be loved and known and using it for his own gain, she tilted the entire plane on its axis.

“He’s his own person.”

The drow had scoffed, irritably waving them all away as if they were no more use to her. And perhaps it was true. She’d gotten Tav’s blood, red rusting on her fingertips where the blood merchant had drawn it. He wanted to take her hand, not to lap away the last remnants that lingered there, just to feel her there, warm and alive.

“Astarion?” She whispered, giving him a queer look as they approached the door to the basement.

“Hmmm?”

“Are you alright?”

“Of course! Why would I be anything else?” He said, panic welling inside him. It was too soon to talk about this. He’d not made sense of it yet.

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about…” she gestured to the passageway they’d just exited.

“No. Not… No.”

Her eyes turned sad, and he could feel his dead heart seize. No, she wasn’t supposed to be sad. But he couldn’t give her anything but sadness. What did he have?

Bloodlust? Pain? A deft hand with a knife and a needle?

That was why he’d come up with the plan in the first place. He didn’t have anything to offer. Nothing she would want. All he had to do was project someone worth caring about. Someone worth protecting.

And fall into the web she had, sweet and soft and trusting, leaned against him by the fire, keeping him alive with her very blood in this place where nothing lived to sustain him. It was easy to hold her close.

He’d never realized he was slipping down the same slope.

It hammered in his mind as he watched her talk her way out of a fight with the jailor. It was the litany that whispered in his ears as they’d snuck through the prison to free the gnomes and tieflings.

I trust her. I love her.

The thoughts echoed over and over as the water sloshed against the prow of the boat they used to make their escape.

I love her.

But none of it had been real.

If he’d been alive, the knot of guilt would have made him vomit up bile into the lake. Instead, he sat, turning it all over in his mind.

That was where she found him later, sitting on the beach behind the Inn.

“Astarion?”

Her voice was questioning, but undemanding as her toes scraped softly in the sand behind him. He sighed, fingers clinched tight so he didn't reach out as he turned to face her.

“We need to talk.”

#Astarion x Tav #my fic #I'm not entirely sure how the fandom tags because I haven't posted my other things on tumblr lol #Anyway #Have a vampire boy having emotions #Baldur's Gate 3

[tiny-maus-boots]

Darkest of Nights pt 19

Happy valentine's day, nerds.

Beca

All in all it hadn’t been the worst first meeting of the parents. At least. She didn't think it went that badly. Beca didn't really have anything to compare it to since there had never been anyone in her life to warrant a meeting of the folks before now.

She had learned a few things from them, however. Important things that had eased her mind being in the heart of a vampire stronghold.

The first being that every vampire there had defied the council in some way to protect or hide werefolk, humans, and fae to escape the Blood Guard. That counted for a lot in her book and forced her to change the way she was viewing vampires in general. Not that she truly trusted any of them besides Chloe and Aubrey but they had a stake in this fight for their own freedom.

All of them were as good as dead if the Council were to find them now. The necromancer pondered this as she turned on the shower to a deliciously warm spray and stepped under it. She sighed as she considered everything else she had heard too.

They would be safe there but only for a time. The blood guard would track them down eventually and all those vampires were now just sitting targets. Einar promised that every last one would fight for their lives but would they fight for hers?

Beca didn't think so. It wasn’t anything against them really. They didn't know her, and they were scared of what she could do to them. What she had done to them already. It weighed heavily on her as she lathered her hair and worked out the grit, sweat, and dried blood.

It didn't hurt. The necromancer frowned and gingerly touched all over her scalp but she couldn’t find any wounds that had occurred during her struggle with Billy Bob Pimp. Or the blast in the crypt. Her fingers trailed down her neck to brush over the delicate marks where Chloe had sunk fangs into her. There was no scabbing, only the smooth, slightly raised skin of scar tissue.

The brush of her fingertips over the bite marks caused a rush of heat to burn its way from her neck to parts decidedly lower and she had to inhale quickly to stifle the moan before it could slip past her lips.

Beca leaned against the cool tiled wall and focused on breathing. That was new. Not exactly unpleasant newness, but definitely unexpected. When she was sure her knees wouldn't buckle under her, she pushed off the wall and hurried through the rest of her shower looking for wounds that had already healed to unmarred flesh.

Finally wrapped in a luxuriously plush robe courtesy of Chloe, she leaned forward and looked into the mirror. No cuts, no bruises, no marks. Except for Chloe’s bite she was back to her usual resting bitch face with none the wiser about what she had just been through. Nothing had changed but she knew she was a different creature entirely than the woman who had been abducted from her caravan days..or weeks before. Honestly she wasn't even sure how much time had passed. It felt like a lifetime.

“Beca? Are you okay in there?”

She pulled back from the mirror at the knock and tightened her grip on the soft white terry cloth at her neck like the literal robe clutching prude that she was. Beca shuffled to the door and opened it a crack to peek out. Aubrey hovered just outside the door full of concern and holding a folded stack of clothes.

“What’s all that?”

“Chloe’s wardrobe is a little more…colorful than your usual style but I did find some things you might v-vibe with?”

God, did she have to be so fucking adorable all the time? Beca smiled and opened the door wider. “Still figuring out what the cool kids say, huh?”

“I feel as though I’m speaking a new language comprised of words I already know but no longer understand the meaning of.”

Aubrey handed over the folded stack of clothes with a soft frustrated sigh. It was hard to reconcile this gentle and confused woman with the crazed ax wielding demon vampire she knew the blonde could be.

“Well you're doing great. And you look like you feel better.”

The blonde gave a slight nod and self consciously brought her hand up to the side of her face that had been burned. There wasn't even a hint of redness now.

“Thanks to you. You seem to have healed as well.”

Aubrey reached out a tentative hand and grazed a fingertip along her jaw, tipping her head to the light. A cool hand cupped her cheek and Beca leaned into it. It was an almost perfect feeling standing there together. The air around them shifted as Chloe’s body filled the space beside them. Her pale arms slid around Beca and Aubrey, closing the circuit between them. Now it was perfect.

Power hummed up around them without the intensity they had called up in the van. This was something much softer and it swirled and eddied around them as though they were caught in a current. Their connection wasn't just magic that flowed between them, it was a part of each of them bound together in a way mere bodies could never achieve.

And the Council would never let them have this. Not without a fight.

Beca sighed and pulled back only enough to look at the two vampires. Now that she had whatever this was she intended to keep it. And as much as she wanted to sink into Chloe’s bed with them and do things that absolutely would get them arrested in several states and totally murdered by the Blood Guard, she knew they needed to plan.

“Can we talk?”

Chloe’s arms dropped from around them in resignation and Beca felt a tiny stab of rejection through their connection. The redhead mastered her tone and smiled just as airily and bright as always and it made Beca wonder how many times Chloe had done that before for her. Always accepting the rejection and only offering a teasing smile in return.

“Of course Bec. I'm sure you'd like to set up some ground rules for us…”

Confusion furrowed her brow at that. Rules? Beca opened her mouth but closed it with a click as she eyed them carefully.

“Wait…rules?”

“For our behavior.” Came Aubrey’s prompt reply.

“For your behavior?”

She felt like a parrot just repeating back what she was being told but her brain couldn't seem to wrap itself around what was being suggested. Chloe took pity on her and gestured vaguely around the apartment.

“So you'll feel safe here with us. We won't bite. We promise.”

Beca couldn't explain the way that made her feel. It was in their nature to bite. To feed. To take because they could. And yet for her, they would resist. Had resisted for days even with her leaking blood like a sieve after every injury.

“Oh Chlo…” How did she even begin to explain to them that biting wasn't even on her list of concerns? Beca reached out and took Chloe’s hand in her own, drawing her in closer. “I don't need you, either of you, to follow rules to make me feel safe. I trust you. Safe words for kink on the other hand…well we can get to that later.”

Chloe’s smile was slow and wide and Beca definitely felt her heart do flip flop things she hadn’t felt before. The redhead gave her a quick peck on the cheek and nudged her back into the bathroom.

“Put some pants on, Necromancer, or that talk is going to happen sooner than you think.”

Beca grinned and shut the door on them so she could dress. Not that she needed the privacy but she also didn't want to tempt Chloe into mounting her. Yet.

When she came out Aubrey was predictably hovering with nervous tension by the door.

“If not our behavior then what do you wish to speak to us about?”

Beca took in Aubrey’s small frown of confusion and reached out her free hand to the blonde and led her to bed where Chloe was patiently waiting. It felt better touching them both and she settled in between them, content to just be held.

“Our plan. Which seems like a stupid topic when we're all canoodled up like this. How are you warm right now?”

Chloe giggled at Aubrey’s obvious discomfort at the question and Beca was surprised to see a faint blush rise to the otherwise porcelain skin.

“We fed while you were showering. Aubrey is just a little embarrassed about breaking the fridge.”

“It was an accident.”

“You were drunk.”

Beca's eyes went wide. “Do I want to know?”

“She thought the stainless steel fridge was a can of sardines.”

“It has no handle! I didn’t know how to open it! What kind of contraption has a sealed door with no discernible handle?”

It started as a Muttley snicker that turned into a full on belly laugh that she couldn't seem to stop. Every overwrought nerve she had released its tension and she laughed until she could barely breathe and her sides hurt.

And they let her. Without her needing to explain why her hysterical laughter had turned to uncontrollable sobs. They simply held her between them and weathered the storm of Beca’s emotions with gentle kisses and soothing caresses.

“I'm sorry.”

“For having emotions? Bec, you're totes allowed to have all of the feels right now. You've been through a lot, we all have.”

Beca rubbed her face with both hands and sat up a little bit straighter. Having a break down was a luxury they couldn't really afford. After a second she was able to pull her wits together and face Chloe and Aubrey who were sitting there looking at her like…

The necromancer lifted her head prepared to see at the very least the shadow of cringe in their eyes. But she only found compassionate understanding from beings she never before thought capable of any such thing. It almost started another round of inexplicable crying and she had to look away quickly and clear her throat.

“Thanks. For you know, whatever.”

Aubrey’s head tipped to the side as she considered Beca carefully. She was sure the blonde ws secretly reading her mind with that assessing gaze.

“What? Is…is there something on my face or?”

“I would like to kiss you now.”

It started a sputtering laugh out of her and Beca found herself subconsciously stroking a thumb over spot on her arm that Aubrey fed from. Chloe's gaze tracked the movement and her lips pulled into a slow smile.

“I think we both would like to kiss you now.”

Beca opened her mouth to argue that they needed to plan their next steps, to prepare for the war they would bring to the Council but Aubrey’s warm hand cupped her jaw and gently guided her forward into a gentle kiss. The connection between them swelled at the first brush of lips against her own and it stole her breath away.

She pulled back and blinked owlishly at the blonde as she tried to order her thoughts and regain her focus. The necromancer cleared her throat and opened her mouth again. This time it was Chloe that guided her into a kiss and once again she was swallowed by a wave of magic and emotion so intense she could only make a helpless needy sound until the vampire pulled away.

“Okay rude.”

Aubrey’s brow furrowed in confusion. It was clearly not the reaction she had expected. Beca could feel another laugh starting to bubble up and tugged Aubrey forward into a smiling kiss.

“I didn't tell you to stop, Horny.”

They could wait to plan. Right? The Bloodguard couldn't be that close to finding them that they couldn't take some time for them….right? Chloe’s hand slid over her thigh and flicked her tongue teasingly over the scar she had left on Beca's neck. Fire shot down her spine and settled between her legs. Well. She was probably totally going to die anyway so why not go out with a bang?

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #aubrey posen #pitch perfect #pitch perfect au #vampires #necromancer #mause writes

[blindmagdalena]

Homelander loves to take you shopping. He loves it even more when you let him see the things you try on, but he wouldn't be quiet about it if you picked out something he doesn't like.

Homelander makes himself very comfortable in the plush recliner outside your fitting room. He particularly enjoys taking you to these high-end boutiques, where he can ensure a private, pleasant experience. He never cared for shopping before, had no need of it, but ever since you entered his life, he's obtained a newfound appreciation for it.

Specifically, he appreciates how good you look in the things he buys you. There's something deeply satisfying about seeing you dressed by him, for him.

One more way to stake his claim.

Listening to you, he can hear the faint way you struggle under your breath. Curious, he rises from his seat just as you say, "I think I need a bigger size," from behind the curtains. "Mmm, let's see," he says, parting the curtains with a quick flick of his wrists. "Hey!" You startle, pulling the dress up to cover your chest. "Relax, it's just us," Homelander laughs while you peer around the curtain. "C'mon, show me." "It won't zip over my ass," you say, turning around. You're used to how hands-on he is during these fittings by now. He's always got an opinion, and as far as he's concerned, it's always the correct one.

Stepping in, Homelander appraises the garment. It's truly a stunning piece, the fabric a rich velvet navy that's so dark, it's nearly black. The shine catches the light nicely, creating a depth of color. It would photograph beautifully next to his suit. Pinching the fabric together, Homelander gives it a quick tug, zipping it up to where it ends at your lower back with little to no issue. "Nahhh, just needed a hand up over all this cushioning," he says slyly, cupping a generous handful of your rear.

You smack his hands away, throwing him a scandalized look over your shoulder, though he can see you fighting back a smile. "Would you stop that? We are in public." "Lemme finish," he says with a smirk, ignoring your protests altogether. The back of the dress is largely open, but features a crisscross pattern of laces to fill it in. He slips off his gloves for this part. While he could have done it fine enough with them on, he likes the way his bare fingers brush the skin of your back as he laces the dress. He likes even more the goosebumps it triggers.

Once the lace work is finished, he affixes the clasp at the top. Leaning in, he presses a warm kiss to your neck. He doesn't need to bend down to do it, which he's less a fan of. "The dress is perfect," he tells you, hands roaming down your curves, feeling the fit of it. You turn around in his grasp and slip your arms around his neck. "It still feels tight," you say, shifting side to side. "It's perfect," he insists again, giving your hips a squeeze. "Not a fan of the shoes, though" "Why?" You ask, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Because they make me taller than you?" Homelander's eyes narrow slightly, his smile thinning. "Mmmm, you're lucky you're pretty," he says, leaning in to kiss you. You hum into the kiss before pulling back. "I was about to say the same thing about you." "Ooh, funny girl," he purrs sardonically, giving you a sharp tug to close what little distance there was between your bodies. He kisses you again, slower this time. Deeper. The velvet feels delectable under his hands, but it's the slopes of your body that really drive him wild. He knew the dress would fit because he has every inch of you committed to memory. Homelander wins in the end. The dress is perfect for the next gala you attend together, and he has even more fun getting you out of it than he did getting you into it.

#sfw but homie gets handsy #homelander x you #homelander x reader #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #fluff #i wish i had me a sugardaddylander #my writing

[thealogie]

What I love about kilgrave is although he has a truly terrifying power which could make him more powerful than most marvel villains, he is so petty that on a large scale the stakes have probably never been lower. However on a personal scale the stakes haven’t ever been as high and as a viewer that makes him so much more terrifying

And actually it’s the parts of his personality like the obsessiveness over Jessica, his controlling nature, small-minded petty nature, misogyny, selfishness, self centred narcissism, how he treats Jessica as an object and a prize rather than a person, his predatory nature which are things we can recognise in real-life people combined with his power which is his ability to control people to do whatever he wants that makes his so terrifying. It’s not the delusions of grandeur, he hasn’t been driven to the edge of madness by grief or the need for revenge,

He is a pathetic, whiny man who has never stopped to think of anyone else just because he doesn’t have to. And it’s perfect how they combined a genuinely loser character who becomes almost unstoppable because of his marvel superpowers. He is both a comic book villain as well as a toxic and abusive ex and stalker. So it allows to explore Jessica’s psychological horror and torture, but it is also ultimately a superhero show

Also DT seems to play quite a few of these scary bad guys who could be a big problem for everyone but are ultimately too small minded and losers. Such as the cale dude in bad Samaritan, the dude in secret smile,

Yes! Jessica Jones is quite literally the only mcu property I’ve ever cared about and I do think it’s because the stakes while “low” are actually so so much higher for our hero and her loved ones. Like the thought of losing your agency and being a prisoner to your abuser forever just makes for a much more compelling story than an abstract desire to save the whole world. I genuinely think that’s why mcu movies like winter soldier and black panther were a cut above the average mcu drivel. The personals stakes in them were good